


Aftercare

by JBankai89



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Plugs, BDSM, Caning, Cock Rings, Collars, Consensual Violence, Deep Throating, Dom/sub, Double Penetration, EWE, Flogging, Guilt, Knotting, Knotting In Human Form, Leather, M/M, M/M/M, Multi, Nipple Clamps, Performance Art, PostWar, Remus Lives, Riding Crops, S&M club, Sensory Deprivation, Skullfucking, Teasing, Threesome, Wax Play, Whipping, mild blood play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-04 02:39:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10981638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JBankai89/pseuds/JBankai89
Summary: After Remus and Teddy moved into Grimmauld Place with Harry, it became apparent very quickly that Harry was keeping something from him. When Remus follows Harry out one night, what he finds is nothing like what he would have ever expected, and sparks in the werewolf a pull towards the young man that he could not resist.





	1. Part I: Secrets

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: First attempt at proper BDSM. It may be a bit vanilla compared to some other stories in this genre, but I still had a lot of fun writing it. This story was heavily influenced by the graphic novel series _Sunstone_ by Stjepan Sejic.

Aftercare

 

Part I: Secrets

 

Remus Lupin knew that his housemate had a secret.

Trouble was, he'd be damned if he even had the vaguest inkling of what it was.

Harry James Potter, son and godson of his lost best friends, and godfather to his own child.

Now in his mid-twenties, he had yet to decide on what sort of career path to take, he seemed to have become something of a gentleman of leisure, and spent his time using his sizable inheritance to contribute to a number of post-war causes, but otherwise did next to nothing with his time.

From a parental standpoint, Remus found this somewhat worrisome. Harry couldn't do nothing for the rest of his life, after all, but with each concern that Remus vocalized, it was met with a dismissive wave of his hand and some sort of blanket reassurance that everything was fine.

“Don't worry, Remus,” Harry would say with a reassuring smile, “I know my place. Don't worry so much.”

After each of these conversations, Harry would slip off for the evening, and come back positively reeking of sex. His highly sensitive werewolf nose picked up the scent at once, though if Harry was aware of how he smelled, he never let on.

Remus was uncertain how often Harry went off and did— _whatever it was_ that he did to come back smelling like that. Life had become more than a little complex for Remus, especially after he was taken back as Defence Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts by Minerva. Like with the few other parents on staff, his quarters' Floo connection connected directly to Andromeda Tonks's home, where Teddy stayed during the school year, and really, the only time he ever saw Harry for any stretch of time was at Christmas or over the summer, when he roomed with the young man at Grimmauld Place with his young son.

Even so, the distinct impression that Harry had some sort of strange secret burned in him, and Remus itched to know what it was.

 

The summer after Teddy's sixth birthday, Harry had announced one evening that he was going out.

This was nothing new, given that Harry went out quite a lot, and whenever he did, like the strong scent that always returned with him, Remus never failed to notice the distinct crackle of a strong glamour that disguised him from throat to foot when he headed off each time.

Remus had never pried, but it was curious, and after months of this, Remus was finally determined to find out what the hell was going on.

After Harry left, Remus put his plan into action. He stood from his place near the fire, and tossed a handful of glittering Floo powder into the grate.

“Home of Andromeda Tonks!” he cried, and he knelt in front of the fire as he was swept all the way to his ex-Mother-In-Law's house.

“Remus!” the older woman cried when his head appeared in her fireplace, and dropped her evening tea all over herself. “Whatever is the matter? You don't usually call so late.”

“I'm sorry to disturb you, Andromeda,” he said quickly, “it's nothing incredibly important, but something has come up and I need to step out for an hour or two and Harry isn't in. Do you think you could come by Grimmauld Place and keep an eye on Teddy while I'm gone?”

“Oh, of course, you don't even need to ask,” she said at once, her face breaking into a small smile of relief. “Step back, I'll be right through.”

“Thanks,” he replied, and pulled himself back.

Not a full minute later, Andromeda's spinning form filled Grimmauld Place's fire, and she tumbled out onto the hearth. She stood and brushed herself off, the tea stains already gone, and Remus offered her a small smile.

“I really appreciate this, Andromeda,” he said earnestly, “I shouldn't be gone more than an hour or two.”

“Take all the time you need, Remus,” she said with a small smile, “Lord knows you push yourself too hard, between Teddy and your job at the school...we all need time for ourselves.”

He nodded his thanks, and stepped out into the front garden. He wasn't certain where Harry may have gone, but he wasn't a beloved Defence professor for nothing, and he knew a number of tricky little spells—both the kind that shoved wads of chewing gum up the noses of poltergeists, and those of a more serious nature.

Remus used his barely-used werewolf instincts to follow Harry's scent to the nearest Apparition Point, where the trail ended. He then removed his wand from his pocket, flicked it once, and muttered, “ _proximus magicus calles._ ”

The air around him seemed to thicken, and a thin blue light encased his body. Remus shut his eyes and followed the pull, intent to see where Harry would disappear to so often.

When Remus next opened his eyes, a shocked sputter escaped past his lips before he had the good sense to stop it.

He was standing before a night club, but it was unlike any night club he had ever seen—even in his heydays of letting Sirius drag him around to all sorts of ridiculous places. He was so shocked in fact that the question of, _what would Sirius think of this?_ Had only just begun to cross his mind, closely followed by what Tonks's reaction may have been. Strangely, he couldn't see either of them protesting to this—Sirius would have been deliberately lewd, and Tonks likely would have wanted to tag along with Harry, and possibly even try to drag Remus along with her.

He looked at the club's sign again.

 

_Cock & Bull._

 

Even if he had been a more naïve person, the patrons milling about outside left no question about what sort of establishment this was.

Men and women in collars being led around like dogs in scantily clad outfits that would just barely qualify as clothing at all, older men and women leading about fresh-faced boys and girls, clearly adults, but dressed up to appear much younger than they actually were, men and women in leather with riding crops or whips affixed to their belts, the women dressed in sinful heels and a number of other scandalous outfits that Remus couldn't even begin to describe.

Remus's werewolf instincts told him without the shadow of a doubt that Harry was inside that place, and his mind had gone fuzzy at the implication. He felt a flush of shame begin to creep up his neck as the idea of the fit young man in one of these objectifying outfits floated to the forefront of his mind; his mouth went dry, and his cock gave an interested twitch.

Immediately, Remus shook his head violently.

 _This is Harry,_ he thought fiercely, _your best friend's only son. James and Sirius both would kill me for even thinking about him like that._

However, despite his reservations, his curiosity was certainly piqued.

Though Remus was painfully aware that he was not dressed for the occasion(his current attire almost grandfatherly compared to the people milling around him), he did he feel that donning a ridiculous amount of leather would make him feel any less out of place. Swallowing thickly in an effort to quash his nervousness, he covertly cast a small transfiguration spell on himself, altering his facial structure _just_ enough that Harry was unlikely to recognize him, and he made his way towards the doors.

Remus paid the man at the door a cover fee of two sickles, and slipped inside, and was immediately overwhelmed.

It was crowded, but not uncomfortably so, and the sharp tang of leather seemed to hang in the air like a perfume as he took in the sight of the people inside the club. Most of them were dressed in even less than they had been outside, and Remus felt very much like he had walked straight into a pornographic magazine—in particular when a man walked by in little more than a leather g-string, and moments later a woman walked by in almost the same outfit(if one could call a g-string and stilettos an outfit to begin with), except with pieces of what seemed to be electrical tape affixed in little X's over her nipples.

Aside from the smattering of tables and a bar, the other other thing that occupied the space was a low stage, its drawn curtain awash in red light. Remus drew his attention away from the stage and back to the people that occupied the club. He felt caught between curiosity and shock at the sight of some of the people kneeling at the feet of those who occupied the tables, their heads resting against their knee or thigh, while the domineering partner stroked and caressed them like a beloved pet. Many of the kneeling young men and women were as close to completely naked as could be, in leather or lacy undergarments, and a few with adornments on (or _in_ ) their genitals themselves.

“You're a virgin, aren't you?” a sweet, feminine voice suddenly said, and when Remus turned to see who was speaking to him, he almost fell over in shock.

There stood Luna Lovegood, smiling placidly, her hand twisted through a leather leash that attached itself to the throat of one Neville Longbottom. It seemed as though neither of his ex-students recognized him, but Luna had always been unnervingly perceptive, and the last thing he wanted was for her to work out who he was.

“I know I look young for my age,” Remus teased lightly, “but I haven't been a virgin since I was fourteen.”

“I mean a virgin to the scene, silly,” she replied with a giggle. “You're so nervous. Don't let me scare you away, though, the show will be starting soon, and the sub playing tonight is...special.” Luna finished her statement with a sweet, wistful smile, then turned to Neville and cradled his jaw in her hand, and pecked his lips lightly. “Come,” she said firmly to him, as though he were a dog, “you've been so good tonight, let's get you a treat, hmm?”

Neville smiled and nodded, and did not speak as Luna led him away.

As the pair disappeared into the crowd, Remus was beginning to feel that he had seen enough, and desperately wanted to get home to his son, but at the same time, he wanted to find Harry, if nothing else to make sure that he was actually all right.

Just as suddenly, the lights began to dim, and Remus instinctively turned his attention to the stage just as the curtain drew back. As his brain processed what he was seeing, his breath caught and his mouth went very dry.

Some sort of hangman's apparatus had been erected in the middle of the stage, and a young man was been suspended from it by the wrists with thin red rope. It was high enough from the ground that it stretched his arms and torso taut, but low enough that he was kneeling on the stage's floor, with his thighs parted shamelessly. He wore a blindfold, a pair of leather pants, a thick black leather collar, and nothing else.

The blindfold that he wore totally obscured his identity from the audience, but the sun-kissed golden skin and very untidy black hair immediately clued in Remus to the youth's identity. Never in his life had he seen Harry look lovelier, not had he ever seen Harry ever look so blissfully at peace. His position had forced every muscle to tense, his skin seemed to sparkle with a thin sheen of sweat, and his chest was heaving, but even so, the look he saw on Harry's face gave Remus the impression that there was nowhere in the world that Harry would rather be.

Another man walked onto the stage to polite applause. This man was dressed in tight black trousers and an artfully designed masquerade mask of gold and white, and nothing else. It was still more clothing than the uncomfortable-looking undergarments that Harry was wearing, but Remus supposed that that was the norm in this strange, sexual world.

The man that stood over Harry was very handsome. His head was shaved, and he was broad shouldered, dark-skinned, and very muscular. He was at least a foot taller than Harry, and seemed to radiate power and control. In his hands he held a riding crop, and the sight of it sent a jolt of unease through Remus— _Is he going to beat Harry before an audience?_ he wondered, a feeling of abject horror settling in the pit of his stomach, _That's just_ sick _._

 

Except...he didn't.

 

The man trailed the end of the riding crop up Harry's inner thigh, and even from such a distance, Remus could see Harry shiver, and his hamstring twitch. At the joint where his hip and thigh met, he brought down the small piece of leather down against Harry's skin with more force, and he saw Harry jerk in the bindings, but he looked far from uncomfortable by the small hit.

The look on his face was one of pure bliss.

Remus could see a distinctive bulge in the front of the pants that Harry wore, showing the audience just how much he was enjoying it as the other man began to trail the riding crop up Harry's chest at an infuriatingly slow pace before he brought it down again, a little harder this time against his left nipple.

Harry cried out, but again, the pain seemed to be pleasure, and Remus felt entranced by what he was seeing.

The performance continued, and it was like a dance. Small strikes here and there, never enough to cause more damage than to temporarily inflame the flesh, and when it was over, the man freed Harry and gathered him in his arms in a close embrace. Harry clung to him, and he could see Harry shivering, though Remus could not tell if it was from cold or arousal.

A pair of stage hands wheeled the apparatus off the stage, and replaced it with something that looked like a large X. It was quite clear what this thing was for, what with the leather restraints affixed to the four corners of the thing, as well as a few others around the middle. Remus felt his stomach turn over again at the sight of it, and unconsciously he licked his lips.

The man kissed Harry once in full view of the audience, then led the blindfolded young man over to this new apparatus, and Harry rested against it on his stomach. He seemed completely comfortable as the man affixed the straps to his wrists, ankles, around his waist, and attached a short chain to the collar at his throat. Remus could see in the way that Harry fidgeted that it was not constrictive enough to hurt him, but he was still completely immobilized, and Remus shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably as he watched.

The man traded the riding crop for a tasselled whip, and in his free hand he drew his wand.

With a quick wave, Harry's only garment of clothing disappeared, and the crowed applauded and cheered. It was not a lewd or perverse sound, but more like an audience who had gotten to their favourite part of a show.

Harry's pert arse was difficult to _not_ look at, moreso after Remus noticed a strange glint between his pert cheeks, and he swallowed thickly past the distinct dry mouth feeling that once more overcame him.

An anal plug had been inserted at some point much earlier, and now Remus could see a glinting mauve heart-shaped jewel peeking out, catching the light occasionally, and making it next to impossible for Remus to look away.

Like with the riding crop, the man got Harry used to the sensation of the whip first. He trailed the tassels up the back of Harry's calves, thighs, arse, and back. Every time, Harry's muscles would twitch involuntarily, and Remus saw a shiver course through the young man. He did this roughly four or five times, but Remus found that it was difficult to keep track, as Harry's bodily reactions were close to hypnotic.

Without warning, the man suddenly lifted the whip and brought it down against Harry's back with a sharp _snap!_

Remus winced just as Harry let out a pornographic moan, and he watched with morbid fascination as the whip was brought down again and again against Harry's back, buttocks, and thighs, and even as the flesh turned an angry red, Harry was completely relaxed, as though he was experiencing nothing more intense than a relaxing massage.

At the end of it, the man returned Harry's pants to their rightful place, released the bindings, and pulled Harry into a close embrace, while he pressed a kiss to his temple. There were tear tracks on Harry's face, but Remus could not recall ever seeing him happier as he clung to the taller man. His smile was reserved and relaxed, and even as the blindfold was removed, his look of utter peace did not change.

Remus slipped out of the club before the pair had even left the stage, and headed home. He was numb with shock and confusion at what he had witnessed, and as he got home, bid Andromeda goodnight, and headed to bed himself, he felt as though he could not process any of it.

Close to two in the morning, Remus heard Harry return and pad softly up the stairs and to his own room. His acute werewolf hearing enabled him to pick up the noise easily, but as always, he was courteous and quiet, and did not disturb his godson's sleep as he went.

 

~*~

 

The days passed, and Harry gave no indication as to where he spent his nights. His interactions with Teddy were the normal, loud, thunderous chaos they always were—with the pair of them racing through the main level of the house, as well as up and down the stairs like a pair of primary-schoolers(or small rhinoceroses), while Remus intermittently barked at them to tone it down. Harry's protests that it was _his_ house, and therefore he could treat it how he wanted were ground to a halt only when Teddy pitched over the railing of the stairs, and only Harry's innate Seeker skills enabled him to catch the tot in time.

Remus's summertime work as a budding novelist under the nom de plume, Lupé Bleidd, went more or less uninterrupted by their antics, though that particular type of work did leave him with a lot of free time to think about what he had seen that fateful night now over a week earlier. In particular, it have him time to reflect on the dreams that had followed his witness of it.

Erotic dreams of the like that he had not experienced since his Hogwarts days plagued his subconscious—of Harry bound, at his mercy, and in the place of the dark man Remus had seen him with, it was he himself, Remus Lupin, delivering the blows upon the young man, and each strike would make him moan and keen like a bitch in heat. Each time, Remus woke drenched in cold sweat, with cold semen dampening his flesh and bedsheets, while inside, his wolf howled with desire, and his human mind was overwhelmed with guilt. He did not simply want Harry—he wanted to _dominate_ him.

Remus shivered at the desire, and as the full moon slowly drew closer, where the wolf's mind ended and his began became even more muddled than usual, and he began to fear just what he might do to Harry if the young man caught him at the wrong moment.

More worrying still, at least to Remus, was the strong likelihood that whatever happened, Harry might _enjoy_ it.

 

~*~

 

The following afternoon, Teddy and Harry disappeared to the Burrow for an afternoon with the Weasleys, and Remus found himself alone in the blissfully quiet house.

He knew that Harry's intent was so that he could work on his novel in peace without Teddy and him disturbing him, but Remus found it next to impossible to sit still.

Remus wandered upstairs with his head in the clouds, and he stuttered to a stop outside Sirius's old bedroom, which had been convertedin recent years into Harry's room. Even so, Remus could smell traces of his ex-lover underneath the strong smell of _Harry_.

Something drew Remus in, and without wholly realizing what he was doing, he slipped inside the bedroom. The scent of Harry washed over him much more intensely, and once more his arousal spiked at the thought of the young man.

As he looked around, Remus did not know what he had expected to find. After his recent discovery of Harry's late-night extracurricular activities, he half-expected to walk into some depraved sexual dungeon, and not Harry's bedroom, but it looked the same as it always did.

The walls had been painted a soft blue, a modest queen-sized bed was pushed into the corner, and a bedside table, a wardrobe, and a writing desk, all made of expensive stained oak had been arranged around the room, and a perch for his new owl, Faust, sat near the window.

It was completely normal, and it aroused no suspicion whatsoever. The books that were stacked on the bedside table were mostly storybooks for Teddy, and a few volumes related to Quidditch were also jumbled in with the rest. There was nothing present that would indicate that Harry seemed to get off on being whipped and bound.

Against his better judgment, Remus stepped forward uncertainly, and checked the room for secrecy charms, and immediately found one, which he broke through before he could rethink the action. At once, a heavy black trunk, almost twice as large as Harry's old school trunk, materialized at the end of the bed.

 _I shouldn't be doing this,_ Remus thought as he stepped towards the trunk uncertainly, albeit curiously, _this is a complete invasion of privacy..._

Despite his protesting conscience, Remus's body moved towards the trunk seemingly of its own volition, and when Remus dug his fingers into the seam, it opened without any resistance.

The moment that it had creaked open, Remus's breath caught, and his eyes widened.

Leather and latex clothing items, lengths of rope, three different types of gags that all seemed to have different uses, handcuffs made of leather, blindfolds from something as simple as a strip of satin to as complex as a strange sort of helmet-like contraption, cock rings, narrow metal rods that Remus _prayed_ did not go where he thought they would go, metal teardrop-shaped anal plugs from the size of a chicken's egg to the size of a large fist, all of them with different gems affixed to their bases, dildos in alarming shapes and sizes, a number of things that looked like chicken's eggs, and several books that seemed to cover everything from safe sex to rope-tying techniques and everything in between.

Perched right at the top of the lot was a small journal with a nondescript black cover, and Remus felt himself teetering between burning curiosity and the dizzy feeling like he had seen more than enough to last him a lifetime. This was not his world, but it most certainly seemed to be Harry's. Remus rocked on his heels as he deliberated, but in the end, he caved to his curiosity, and withdrew the little journal. Remus sank down onto the bed as he flipped it open to the first page, dated more than a year earlier, and began to read.

 

 _Finally sacked up and went to_ Cock & Bull. _Luna said that I might find what I was looking for there, and at the time, I had no idea what she meant by that. Seeing Neville trussed up like a Christmas goose is something I won't soon forget, though._

_I stuck close to Luna most of the night. To be honest, I was a bit freaked out by everything—I've never seen anything like it, except in naughty magazines, but that's different. Seeing it in real life was something else._

_About half an hour after I got there, I was thinking about leaving when I bumped into someone I didn't expect to see—Blaise Zabini! We didn't exactly get on at school, given our Houses, but he was different than how he was in school. Hell, he was_ hot _._

_I remember that he was wearing these close-fitting leather trousers, he had a riding crop attached to his belt, and he was wearing this long leather coat, a little less Motorbike Gang-style, and more Evil Dungeon Master. Evil in a sexy way—not in a dark wizard way._

_He promised that he wouldn't hurt me, which, frankly, I doubted. More likely Malfoy was hiding somewhere and they were waiting to hex me when they got me alone or something. But Luna seemed to really believe that Zabini wouldn't hurt me, and he led me to this back room. I have to admit, I was really curious, so I didn't really put up that much of a fight, so if I_ had _gotten hexed, it would have been my own stupid fault. I didn't though._

_This back room was the most mental thing that I have ever seen. Zabini led me down this long passageway, and he stopped at one of the last doors. Inside, it was this huge room, dim, but you could still see what was going on. It was like something out of a fantasy (or nightmare, depending on who you are). There were men strapped into all sorts of contraptions, bound, gagged, being whipped or slapped, caned, fucked mercilessly, sometimes by more than one person—it was insane._

_I was getting a little more freaked out, and I think Zabini could sense that I was nervous, and he kissed me, and Merlin's Tit—could that man_ kiss _. I can't really remember exactly what he said, the way he was holding me, the smell of sex in the room, all of it had made me sort of numb. In a good way. I know for sure it wasn't a spell or hex, it was just the heavy atmosphere of the whole thing. What I do remember him saying is this(which, to be honest, he was making it really hard to focus on anything at all, because he wouldn't stop touching me and turning my brain into goo)—_

“ _Harry,” he said while he ran his hands down my back and cupped my arse, “I am going to free you from yourself. Let go, and put your trust in me.” At this point, his hands slipped_ inside _my trousers and pants, and his hands on my arse made it even harder to listen to him._

“ _You will submit to my whims, and you will love it. Before the night is out, you'll be begging me to hurt you just a little bit more, and you will weep when I deny you,” he continued, and even began to kiss my neck, which was so gentle, so sensual, that it flew int he face of literally everything that was happening around me. “I will push your limits, I might make you cry, and you will love every sweet second of it.”_

“ _But—” this single word, paired with the fact that he had stopped touching me brought me careening back to reality, and I wanted to scream. It had all felt so_ good _. As it would turn out though, it seemed as though he stopped to make sure that I heard him. “If it ever becomes too much for you, there will be a word—a single word that will break my power over you, and force me to stop,” he said, “what will that word be? Tell me now.”_

_I picked Quidditch, of course, and he laughed at me. It wasn't a mean or cutting laugh though, it was probably the closest thing to a good-natured laugh that I have ever heard from him. At this point, he helped me get out of my clothes, and I stumbled over some stupid phrase, like, “I don't normally do this sort of thing,” or something like that, and he just smirked at me. I reckon the fact that I'd never done this before was pretty obvious to him._

_Blaise led me over to this really freaky contraption, and he picked up something on his way over. I think I jumped at least a foot in the air, because suddenly he was running this knobbly, leather something_ _down my spine and between my arse cheeks. At the same moment, he held something up in front of me. It was a leather collar. I hate to admit it, but the sight of the thing was just_ so _arousing, though I have no idea why._

“ _If you put this on, Potter, you are mine. You shall refer to me as Sir, and you...my pet. There is no turning back once I claim you, little lion, and no one is permitted to touch you but me.”_

_I don't know why his possessive, domineering words had such an effect on me. It was weird, every word he spoke, I could just feel my cock responding to it, and he'd barely touched me yet. I was scared—hell, I was petrified, but I still accepted the collar._

_Blaise strapped me to the contraption, and I was spreadeagled before him, and totally at his mercy. It was so strange. I couldn't move beyond some small fidgeting, I had a former rival (or, at least. House rival) at my back, none of my friends were around, but never in my life have I felt more safe than when I was strapped down like that._

_Blaise wasn't finished with his accoutrements for me; he pulled off my glasses and put this sort of cap thing on me. It was leather, or dragonhide, I'm not sure, and it covered my eyes and ears, and pinched the bridge of my nose. It didn't close it, I could still breathe, but I couldn't smell anything. It was so strange. It also completely blinded and deafened me—he'd taken away three of my senses, but it only thrilled me more._

_The next thing to come was a sort of gag. It wasn't like the ball-gag that I've seen in magazines, there was a hole in the middle of it that I could stick my tongue out of, and still breathe comfortably, but my voice was still a bit garbled—not that I was really talking all that much by that point._

_The last thing that Blaise did was something I had yet to try, and while I was never against it, it was certainly not something I would have had the nerve to do on my own, or suggest to a partner._

_I felt a lubrication charm run through my arse, and he prepared me with his little finger. Hardly any preparation at all. I've been fucked in the arse before, this was nothing new, but I was a little unnerved by how little preparation he gave me._

_Then I felt it._

_Cold, slick metal pressing against my arse, something large, far larger than the feeble preparation that Blaise had provided me with would warrant, and I remember groaning pretty loudly as he shoved the butt plug in, and then relaxing as the thing settled inside me._

_It was the most amazing thing I have ever felt._

_I didn't see it before it went in, so I have no idea how big it really was, but it felt_ huge _. Every time I clenched my arse it felt impossibly full, and the hard metal was unyielding no matter how hard I pushed against it or clenched around it—and I never wanted Blaise to take it out. It just felt so, so good._

_My brain had been reduced to goo again. I felt Blaise move, and he suddenly turned my head, and he kissed me through the gag._

_He didn't kiss me for long, I think it was more to make sure that I was all right, then he circled to my back again._

_That was when the whip entered the picture._

_I had never imagined that pain could be pleasurable, but as those thin ropes of leather hit my back, the stinging sensation made me moan again, and squirm. He wasn't hitting me very hard, just enough to make my skin twinge, but not actually injure me._

_The whip came down on me again and again, I actually lost count of how many times he whipped me, and as time went on the blows got harder, and it stung more and more._

_I was crying, I remember my face being wet, at least, but he didn't stop, and I didn't want him to. My cock was almost ridiculously hard, not dimmed at all from the pain. Because of him temporarily blinding me and deafening me, I couldn't take my attention away from it; there was nothing else to focus on_ but _the pain that he was inflicting on me._

 _When he finally stopped, I was crying even harder, but I don't even know_ why _I was crying. I felt so pathetic, because I knew that it wasn't the pain making me cry—I'd never really been much of a crier, and let's be honest, I've been in much worse scrapes than something like this. He removed the plug from my arse gently, and it twinged a little as it came out, but nothing agonizing. He then removed the gag and the blindfold-cap-thing, and the whole world came rushing back. It was beyond overwhelming, and when he finally released me from the contraption, I couldn't hold my own weight, and just collapsed._

_I think he expected this, because he caught me, and carried me over to this settee off to one side of the room. He helped me clean up and calm down, and just...held me. He didn't assume control, or spit out a caustic remark, he was so gentle, it was a little scary actually. I asked him about what was going on, and he called it Aftercare. A way for us to come back down to earth from the play we had just engaged in, and he was right—in that moment, I did feel cared for._

_I left not long after that. The whole experience was really draining, but in a good way. I asked about the collar after I'd gotten dressed, and he ran his finger along the edge of it, and I remember that that small touch was enough to make me shiver._

“ _You can keep it, if you like, Harry...it looks good on you,”—_

 

“What the _hell_?”

The sudden voice caused Remus's head to snap up.

Standing in the doorway was Harry, his face contorted with horror and anger in equal measure.

Remus's mouth dropped open, and the little book in his hands tumbled to the floor.

 


	2. Part II: Prejudgments

Part II: Prejudgments

 

Remus gaped at Harry, who stared right back at him with wide eyes. It seemed as though he could not decide whether he was more angry or horrified by Remus's discovery of his secret.

After a pregnant pause, he took a small step forward, and the stunned silence seemed to break. Harry snatched up the journal off the floor, tossed it into the trunk, and snapped it shut. It was only after he'd waved his wand and put the secrecy charms back in place did he round on Remus.

“You were snooping though my private property, Remus,” Harry said evenly, his voice quivering with anger. “I have secrecy charms and alarms on this to keep Teddy from finding it, but I never thought _you_ would go nosing through my things. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I'm sorry, Harry,” Remus said quickly, unable to meet Harry's eye as he spoke. “I—I...I was concerned. You go off almost every night, and you always came back smelling like sex. My nose is better than most, as you recall, and it wasn't something your friends or Teddy would be able to pick up, but I could. I just wanted to make sure you were being careful, so one night I...” he trailed off, and looked back up at his young housemate.

“You followed me,” Harry said in a toneless voice, and Remus nodded as he dropped his gaze again. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Harry's expression harden. “What gives you the right?” Harry demanded, his voice still dangerously cold and even. Remus looked back up to the young man, and he saw rage burning in his eyes. Never in his life had he seen Harry so angry, but so _calm_. He was more accustomed to the version of Harry that would fly off the handle at the simplest provocation, and this calm, almost aloof version seemed even worse, somehow. “What the hell made you think it was okay to stalk me, then snoop not just through my things—my _very private, under secrecy charms for a damn good reason_ things? _Explain yourself_.”

“I-It's not what you think,” Remus said quickly, “I was concerned, so I—”

“Oh, _concerned_ , were you?” Harry sniped, the hysterical note in his voice jumping higher as his anger spiked, “so my _everything is fine_ explanations weren't enough for you, you had to pull that hovering parental figure thing and _stalk_ me to figure out what the hell I was up to? Did it not occur to you that _maybe_ I didn't tell you for a reason?”

Remus grimaced at the _hovering parent_ remark, his insides squirming with unease at how it clashed with this new, budding arousal he had begun to feel for him. He did not allow himself to dwell on it for the present moment, as with Harry's rising temper, he wasn't keen on letting it spiral out of control.

“I'm a werewolf, Harry,” Remus said firmly as he levelled his gaze with the young man, “that means my senses are keener than those of an average witch or wizard. You come home every other night stinking of sex, and would not explain anything to me beyond claiming that things were _fine_. Did it not occur to _you_ that I was afraid that you were being _abused_ by someone?”

“Abused? _Abused?_ After the hell I grew up with, do you seriously think I'd let someone treat me like that?”

“If that _box_ of yours is any indication—” Remus began, but Harry cut him off quickly, his face deepening to a magenta in his anger.

“That is _not_ the same thing, Remus,” Harry snarled, his voice indicating how deeply insulted he was by the crass accusation that it stopped Remus short. “What I'm into...it's not about abuse. It's _never_ about abuse.”

“Then explain it to me, Harry,” Remus said, his tone softening as he looked on to his housemate and friend, his stomach knotted and uneasy. “I'm sorry that I looked through your things, it was wrong, I know this—but I was concerned, that's all. After I went to that—that club and saw you on stage like that...wouldn't _you_ be concerned if you were in my position?”

Remus's latter question did not seem to register with Harry. He looked on with wide eyes, and some of the colour drained from his face, leaving it a sort of sickly green when he realized what Remus was saying.

“You...you saw everything?”

“I watched your performance, and I left,” Remus explained evenly, “I...I didn't know what to make of it. It was...enthralling. I couldn't understand why you would want to...”

He chanced a glance back up at Harry as he trailed off, and Harry sighed heavily. Some of his anger seemed to be fading, and he stepped around Remus to sit down heavily on the bed next to him. He was just close enough that he could feel Harry's body heat, and after all he'd learnt about the young man recently, it was beyond enticing. For a moment, Harry didn't speak, but instead glared at his knees. His posture screamed of defensiveness to Remus, and he wondered vaguely just how often Harry had to explain himself to outsiders like this.

“Ever since I entered the wizarding world, I have had to be in charge,” Harry began, “my whole life was planned out for me, and I was always the one pushed into the leadership role, the one who was looked at as a hero, or a guiding light, or however you want to phrase it...I could never rest. After everything, and everyone we lost...I felt lost. I couldn't really move on, I just felt... _stuck_.

“Ron and Hermione didn't really get it, and they always listened, and tried to help, but they couldn't quite understand why I couldn't just _get over it_.” Harry paused and wrinkled his nose in disgust at the words, and it took him another moment for him to calm down enough to continue. “Then...last year, I was visiting Neville and Luna, and I was sort of...unloading on them about how I felt, and how frustrating it was trying to explain it all to Ron and Hermione, and all the rest of it, and Luna had an...unusual suggestion.”

“As she so often does,” Remus added, remembering the journal entry's first few lines immediately, as she was the one to initially suggest the club to him. Harry's mouth twitched into a faint smirk as he nodded, then continued with his story.

“At first, I really, really didn't want to go. I thought she was mental for even suggesting such a thing. I mean, how in the hell was...” Harry waved his hand significantly towards where the trunk was hidden, “ _all this_ supposed to help me?”

“But you did go,” Remus filled in, and Harry nodded his head again.

“Yeah, I did. It was...freeing. Incredible...it was an epiphany. _This_ was what I had been missing all along. To...to hand over complete control to someone else, even for a little while...I can't really explain it. The pain, the pleasure, the... _restrictions_...it's all the same to me, it's ecstasy. Sex was never fulfilling for me until all this started, I can't be in control. I need to be held down, dominated...all of it.”

Remus felt enchanted by Harry's words, and he could see on the young man's face just how important this was to him. It seemed to go well beyond a sexual kink, and somewhere along the way it had become an integral part of who Harry was. Now that Remus was looking beyond the simple shock of it all, it seemed as though this—whatever _this_ was—truly made Harry happy.

“Do Ron and Hermione know?” Remus asked eventually, and Harry laughed.

“Hell no,” he said at once, and Remus raised his eyebrows in surprise. Harry quickly elaborated as his laughter calmed to an amused sort of grimace. “I knew it was unconventional, and Luna, Neville, and Blaise all warned me that sometimes people get the wrong idea, especially about subs like me, and think we're abused, or sex slaves or something. I decided to try and get a feel for them first before I told them anything, and their reactions were pretty predictable, to tell the truth. Hermione thought it was this awful, horrible... _thing_ , where the subs are coerced and brainwashed into thinking that they like it, and the doms are these sadistic bastards that get off on inflicting pain. Ron just thought it was weird, but he wasn't as...vehement as Hermione.” Harry paused and heaved a sigh while he raked his hand through his hair. “After that, I decided not to tell them, and I didn't bother correcting their opinions about it—I thought it'd arouse suspicion, so I just let it be, and I never brought it up again.”

“And the performances?” Remus asked softly, “you're not exactly unknown, Harry, aren't you worried that someone will tell the press?”

“No,” Harry replied with a small snort. “The BDSM community...we're tight-knit. The people there all know the risks of bring outed, so to speak. The people there are Healers, Professors, Shop Owners, _Politicians..._ It'd be detrimental if someone were to find out. We all know that, so we never tattle on each other.”

“All right,” Remus said as he tried to wrap his head around what he was hearing. “But the performances...why do you do them? You hated being in the spotlight with your clothes _on_. So...why do you do it?”

“It's not an attention-seeking thing...not really, anyway,” Harry replied as he squirmed in his seat uncomfortably. “It's sort of like a dance to us. We're putting on a show. It's art.”

“I never took you for an Aesthete, Harry,” Remus mused, and Harry blinked.

“A what?”

“Never mind,” he said quickly, “are you and Mr Zabini involved, then?”

The question seemed simple enough to Remus, but at this Harry flushed a deep scarlet. After all he had seen, the older man was quite amazed that Harry could feel embarrassed about anything anymore, especially after displaying his bare arse to an audience like that.

“No,” Harry replied, “we're sort of...Friends with Benefits. He's a professional dominant, and when he has a new thing he wants to try, I'm usually his guinea pig, and we do performances together. I can't see him as the type to tie himself down to one sub for any major stretch of time.”

“Hm.” Remus regarded Harry curiously, and watched as Harry's eyes darted from him to where his trunk was hidden, and back again. If Remus didn't know any better, he'd say that the young man was frightened. It had taken a moment for Remus to realize what he was seeing, and then he recalled Harry's initial reaction—before his anger, there, he had exhibited fear too.

“Harry,” Remus said, careful to keep his tone light and unaccusing as he spoke, “when you first caught me, you weren't angry—you were scared. Why is that?”

Harry seemed to blanch a little at the question, and his gaze dropped down to his knees. His fingers clenched tightly to the duvet that they sat on, and it took him a long moment for him to verbally respond to Remus's question. The physical display of unease deeply bothered Remus, and for a moment he felt compelled to draw Harry into his arms and soothe him. The urge deeply confused him, and he forced it to the back of his mind as he tried to patiently wait for Harry to answer.

“A lot of people misunderstand what I'm into,” Harry explained, his voice dropping to a soft, almost fearful tone, “I was afraid that if you found out, you wouldn't let me see Teddy anymore.”

A heavy silence following Harry's admission. He did not look up as he spoke, and instead directed his answer to his knees. Remus did not need his innate werewolf senses to sense the fear that he had seen in Harry initially when he had caught Remus, and now following his tentative question. It rang in every movement that he made. But hearing his explanation for the secrecy, Remus felt his heart clench, both out of sympathy and guilt. In part due to the fact that he _had_ been watching Harry even more closely than usual following his discovery, and he felt doubly anguished at Harry's belief that he would bar him from seeing Teddy.

“I'll admit,” Remus said slowly as he reached out a hand to rest it on Harry's knee. The touch had meant to be comforting, but the moment his fingers made contact with him, he felt that pull again, his wolf scrabbling at the inside of his mind, desperate to take what he wanted of Harry. He quickly pulled back as he continued, “at first, I was concerned. I trust you with my son, Harry, I always will—but you must understand that seeing you like that was shocking...it wasn't something that I would have expected of you. I knew that you would never be inappropriate with Teddy, but in the few days after, I do admit to watching you a little more cautiously, but when I saw no change in you, my worries ceased. The charms...they're to keep Teddy from finding it, right?”

“Er, yeah,” Harry replied, a small smile now stretched across his face. “Kids get into stuff they're not supposed to all the time, so it's warded that if someone opens the trunk and they're not me, I get a sort of...alert. That's how I caught you,” he explained while he smirked a little, as though pleased with himself at his charmwork, and Remus chuckled.

“Well, I certainly deserved it,” he replied, and reached out tentatively again. Harry did not move, and Remus rested a hand on Harry's shoulder. The young man shivered, and Remus's nostrils flared. He tried to swallow his surprise, but he was not certain how well he had managed it, for the scent emanating from Harry at that exact moment was not one of fear or unease.

 

It was arousal.

 

“Harry?” Remus asked weakly, and the young man's gaze met his. His eyes were a thin line of green drowned out by his largely dilated pupils, and his breathing had become somewhat laboured. Harry blinked his eyes several times and bit his bottom lip, as though he was struggling to get himself under control. Remus fidgeted, and Harry's gaze dropped to his groin, and grinned at the growing bulge that he saw there. His gaze snapped up one last time, and his expression had shifted to calculating, though it was still saturated by his desire. He seemed to be sizing Remus up in some way, when quite suddenly, he inched closer.

Remus's heartbeat doubled in an instant, the small movement having the same effect on him as though Harry had jumped on him. Inside, his wolf was howling plaintively, desperate to take Harry then and there. Remus's hands clenched around the bedding.

“I—I need to go, Harry,” he said suddenly, and jumped to his feet. He was halfway to the door before he paused and turned to the young man again, “this has been very...illuminating.”

Remus did not wait for Harry's response before he hastened out of the room.

 

It was only after Remus had made it to his own bedroom and shut the door that he remembered in all the confusion that he did not know where Teddy was, and for a moment, he felt slightly sick. _What parent forgets about their own child?_ However, he could already hear Harry thumping down to the main level, the distinct _whoosh_ of the Floo, and Teddy's childlike, tinkling voice permeated the silence.

“Uncle Harry, where's Daddy?” he chirped. Even from such a distance, Remus could hear his son perfectly.

“Your dad's...having a time-out,” Harry replied, and Remus could hear laughter in his tone. Teddy gasped audibly, and Remus could all-but see his son's shocked expression in his mind's eye. Eyes wide, mouth dropped open, and his mop of violet hair sticking up every which way, making him look like a muggle interpretation of a pixie. It was terribly endearing.

“What did Daddy do?” Teddy asked breathlessly, “did _you_ put him in time-out?”

“Well...” Harry trailed off, and Remus tensed. “Your daddy and I were having a grownup talk, you know what I mean?”

“Uh-huh,” Teddy replied, “stuff I'm not supposed to know about yet, 'cause I'm little. Uncle Ron says that he'll tell me about grownup stuff when I hit two did-its...but I don't know what a did-it is, so I can't hit one!”

For a moment, Harry could not respond, for he was laughing too hard. Remus smiled a little, and felt himself relax. Not for the first time, he was deeply grateful for Harry. Remus felt that was turning out to be something of a rubbish parent, and Harry seemed to help keep things in order...despite his slightly unconventional bedroom habits.

Slowly, Remus tuned Harry and Teddy out as his mind wandered back to their conversation, now that he was assured that his son was safe. So close to full moon, barely three days away, he did not wholly trust his mind, nor the mental and physical reactions he'd begun to feel towards someone who was old enough to be his own son.

 

_If James or Sirius were here, they'd skin me alive for even entertaining the idea..._

 

But the other half of it was Harry's clear desire, which had surprised Remus most of all. Had it been feigned? Did he just want to pretend, like he had with Zabini?

Something in that concept deeply unsettled Remus, and he shivered a little. Part of being a werewolf was the need to dominate—to control. It was part of why he'd dated so little—he was afraid of hurting a partner by accident, or letting his bedroom domineering tendencies get the better of him.

But to have someone under him would would _welcome_ a little pain, a little rough treatment...Remus hated how appealing that sounded to him.

He let out a soft, unwilling moan, and reached down automatically to rub at his budding erection as his imagination ran wild.

 

_Harry, beneath him, his torso littered with blushing love-bites, his wrists pinned above his head by Remus's arm, and his legs locked around his hips while he drove into the young man, each thrust making him cry out. Harry squirmed in his hold, but did not attempt to escape. The leather collar at Harry's throat marked the young man as his, and as he bowed forward to tug at it with his teeth, reminding Harry of its presence, he moaned again and arched into Remus's touch..._

 

Remus shook himself out of the fantasy.

By all accounts, it was likely much more tame than what Harry would be used to, but the mental image did not fail to arouse him nonetheless.

After casting a quick Silencing Charm on the door, Remus went to work to hastily rid himself of his obvious arousal before Harry or Teddy came looking for him.

As he stroked himself, more images of Harry naked or very nearly flooded into his mind, and he let out an ashamed whimper at the thought of Harry underneath him. It shouldn't be arousing, he knew that, Harry was his best friend's _son_ , for Merlin's sake! However, despite his reservations, he came hard, and sat there, panting and sticky, for several long minutes before he had the good sense to clean himself up.

It was not a moment too soon, for just as Remus had finished fastening his trousers, he heard a soft tapping on his door.

“Remus?” Harry's muffled voice called through the door, “may I come in?”

Remus lifted the one-sided charm as he called, “come in!”

Despite the fact that Remus had found release barely thirty seconds earlier, the moment that Harry crossed the threshold into his room and he caught the younger man's scent, he immediately felt the stirrings of arousal begin to resurface.

_This is ridiculous,_ Remus thought, _am I fourteen or forty-four?_

“I just wanted to see how you were, after our...er, discussion,” Harry said, his face flushing a little. Thankfully however, he kept his distance as he continued. Remus shuddered to think of what he might do if Harry got any closer to him at that moment. “Teddy was asking for you, but I thought you might need a little time, so I kept him occupied until his nap.”

“Thank you, Harry,” Remus said as he felt embarrassment layer over his arousal, “I honestly don't know what I would do without you, as I'm sure you've noticed, I'm not turning out to be the most spectacular parent...”

“Rubbish,” Harry cut across him at once, “you're a brilliant dad, and Teddy adores you. It's a damn sight better than my upbringing, that's for sure.”

“Well, had I known more explicitly what you had gone through, I may have tried to step in,” Remus replied at once, frowning as he recalled a fair few of Harry's drunken confessionals after he and Teddy had semi-permanently moved into Grimmauld Place. He'd known that Harry was unhappy there, but he had never known the extent of what he'd endured until recently, for which he felt truly guilty over.

“Would you?” Harry asked, his tone somewhat breathless as he took a small step forward, and Remus stared wide-eyed at the young man's very abrupt change in tone. Remus took a small step back in his alarm, but Harry was undeterred. “Would you have, Remus?” Harry asked again in that same purring voice, “take me away like some fair damsel trapped in a tower?”

“A dungeon, more like,” Remus replied with an arched brow, and Harry flushed an attractive pink, but he did not deny it. Instead he took another step forward, and the halting nervousness he saw in the young man's eyes stopped Remus from skittering back from him like a frightened animal. Harry reached out, and Remus's breath caught as Harry's fingers threaded with his.

In an instant, his resistance shattered, and suddenly the young man was in his arms, their mouths crashed together, and Remus held fast to him. His thoughts were a mess of conflicting emotions from guilt as he wondered whether such a thing was too soon after Dora, to the sheer _wrongness_ of it, given who Harry was to him, and the sheer bliss of tasting the young man, of touching him, and how desperately he wanted to claim him for his own.

“Harry,” Remus breathed, his instincts screaming at him for stopping the proceedings, “Harry, wait, please...”

Harry pulled back and looked up at Remus with wide eyes. His lust was clear, and the look made Remus want him all the more.

“What is it now?” Harry asked, his tone caught between frustrated and lustful.

“Have you thought about this? _Properly?_ I'm—for God's sake, I'm old enough to be your father, I'm a werewolf, I'm a single father, and—”

“—If I cared about all that, do you think I'd be snogging you right now?” Harry interrupted as he arched an eyebrow at him. “Remus, I know it's not exactly...er, _proper_ to do such a thing, but, Remus, you _want_ me. I can practically smell it. We're both consenting adults, I haven't been in school for ages, where is the wrong?”

“There is still the fact that I am classified as a Dark Creature, Harry. I am a werewolf,” he said firmly, and Harry blinked bemusedly, the sheer gravity of the situation clearly flying right over his head.

“So?” he asked, “I don't care if you're a werewolf or a garden gnome. You're still Remus, you're still a good man.”

Remus reached out and carded his fingers through Harry's hair as he thought of how to best answer the question. Harry's eyelids fluttered at the sensation, and he let out a soft sigh of contentment. Remus leant in to taste him, and Harry reciprocated enthusiastically, though sagged with disappointment when Remus pulled back much sooner than Harry would have liked.

“It _matters_ because werewolves are possessive by nature,” Remus murmured softly, and he tightened his hold on Harry. Already he felt disinclined to let him go. “If we were to go forward with this...this... _thing_ , you may be forced to halt your performances...I don't like the idea of sharing you.”

“Then don't share me,” Harry murmured, apparently unconcerned with the implication of himself as some sort of object. “Come to the club this weekend, after you've recovered from the moon; we'll leave Teddy with Andromeda or Molly. We can do something where you won't be recognized, if you want, and Blaise can teach you how to... _handle_ me.”

The offer was sorely tempting, and incredibly appealing to his wolf. To claim a mate, and not just a mate but a proper _sub—_ it made him ache with longing. His human conscience screamed at him, and in between the two warring instincts, he found that he had absolutely no idea what to say.

Apparently sensing his uncertainty, Harry arched up and brushed Remus's lips with his own in a soft ghost of a kiss.

“Think about it,” Harry whispered against his mouth, and gazed back up into Remus's eyes. “To bow to you as my dominant would be a pleasure... _sir_.”

Harry stepped back, and without another word, he stalked out of the room, just as Remus heard Teddy begin to stir.

 


	3. Part III: Play

Part III: Play

 

Harry, despite his apparent promise to let Remus think on the offer in peace, he was clearly doing everything he could to sway his decision in the days to come.

From using every excuse in the book to touch Remus in some way—from a simple brush of the hand, to grasping his forearm, or touching his shoulder. Each contact sent a thrill of desire through the older man, and made it even more difficult to say _no_.

The full moon was particularly hard that month, as his wolf had already begun to view Harry as his mate, and even _with_ the wolfsbane, he scrabbled at the cellar door and bayed mournfully for the bespectacled young man.

 

By Saturday, his resistance was utterly shattered. Harry smirked knowingly at him from across the breakfast table while Teddy babbled at them both, utterly oblivious to the silent conversation passing between his two guardians.

The day passed normally enough, and after Teddy had been put to bed Harry sauntered upstairs, and came back fifteen minutes later—this time without a glamour concealing his outfit.

He looked like a walking wet dream.

Harry's hair had been washed and styled with product, and it looked more artfully windswept and less like a complete mess. He had dressed in a pair of very tight black leather short-shorts that just barely covered his arse, and left positively _nothing_ to the imagination. He was also wearing a thick black leather collar, but nothing else.

Remus's mouth had gone very dry at the sight of him, while Harry appeared unconcerned, and merely offered the older man a playful wink before he made for the front door.

Remus wasn't completely aware on a conscious level that he had followed Harry, but just as suddenly he was standing next to him at the door, a hand pressed against it to stop him leaving.

“You're not going out like that,” Remus said roughly, and Harry snorted.

“What are you, my mother?”

“Harry, you look like...like...” Remus trailed off and Harry cocked an eyebrow at him.

“I've gone out like this every week-end for the past year,” Harry replied, “you just didn't know it.”

He flicked his wand at himself suddenly, and his usual glamour fell into place, showing Harry to be wearing a set of normal clothes. He reached past Remus and grabbed his cloak off the hanger, and at the same moment, a soft tapping sounded from the other side of the door, and Remus jerked back from it, startled by the sudden knocking.

Remus dropped his hand and Harry pulled the door open to reveal Andromeda standing on the other side of it.

“Andromeda,” Harry said with a small smile, “thanks for coming.”

“Oh, Harry, it's no problem,” she replied, “you two work so hard with that little terror that I call a grandson, you deserve a night off once in a while.”

She spoke fondly, despite the phrasing, and Harry chuckled a little as he reached for Remus's hand.

“C'mon,” Harry said as he gave Remus's hand a gentle tug. In spite of his pushy actions, there was a pleading in Harry's eyes. He didn't _have_ to go, he could firmly say no and Harry would (possibly) respect that, but Harry knew as well as Remus did that he could not refuse this. He offered Andromeda an awkward, halting goodbye as Harry half-dragged him from the house.

Remus had no idea what to say as Harry led him down the street and to the nearest Apparition Point. His words escaped him as little more than a jumble of syllables, but when they'd almost made it to the point, he dug in his heels and Harry jerked to a stop.

“Harry, I don't think I can do this,” he said quickly, “I'm not—I mean, this isn't my world...I can't be _seen_ in a place like that, I—”

Harry silenced him with a tender kiss, it so sweet and gentle that Remus felt his heart flutter with longing. It had been so long since he'd been with someone, and the gentle contact was not helping him hold onto his resolve.

“Here,” Harry whispered, “put this on.” He pressed something small and metal into Remus's hand, and he looked down to see a simple brass ring. “It's a Perception Shift,” he explained, “it's sort of like a Disillusionment Charm, but it doesn't make you invisible, just unnoticeable and anonymous. Would that make you feel better about coming with me?”

Remus was still uncertain whether he wanted to go at _all_ , but Harry's bright-eyed, pleading look was difficult to deny.

“Fine,” he replied with a heavy sigh, and slipped the ring on. “I have a feeling that I'm going to regret this.”

Harry immediately reached for him again and kissed him lightly. “Anything I can do to reassure you?” he asked as he pressed the heel of his palm against the front of Remus's trousers, and cocked an eyebrow. “Anything at all?”

“You're a terrible influence,” Remus replied dryly, and Harry grinned at him.

“C'mon,” he said, and gave Remus's hand a small tug, “I promise to show you a good time.”

Resigning himself to an evening of strangeness, Remus allowed himself to be tugged and led the rest of the way to the Apparition Point without any more words of protest.

 

~*~

 

Harry led Remus in Side-Along Apparition to the club, which Remus found somewhat ironic, given what he knew about Harry's sex practices.

Outside, Harry offered Remus's hand a gentle squeeze, and after breaking the glamour to display his scant clothing choice for the evening, he led him inside.

As they wove through the crowds of people, most of whom Remus did not recognize, though the few that he did he found it rather difficult to mask his surprise—Lucius Malfoy should not have been a shock, but seeing him on his knees next to Narcissa certainly was. He also caught sight of Luna and Neville again, as well as Charlie Weasley, Hestia Jones, and even Ludo Bagman milling about, all of them appearing completely at ease in the space, a stark contrast to the way Remus's stomach continued to twist nervously.

Harry never paused, but continued to intermittently squeeze Remus's hand reassuringly, as though in an attempt to quell his clear _what the hell am I doing here?_ feelings. He did slow his pace a few times to offer a nod and smile to some of the other patrons, and expertly wove through the crowd, avoiding the wandering hands of several people who seemed to fancy themselves domineering partners. He tugged Remus close in those moments and tucked himself into the older man's side, while he gave those men and women pointed looks, and they quickly backed off.

Harry led Remus away from the main area of the club, and down a narrow hallway that he recognized from the descriptions in Harry's journal. It was entirely nondescript, though filled with the sounds of what the occupants of these rooms were up to—Remus could hear a jumble of moans and pained cries, slaps of skin-on-skin and whip cracks, all of which left Remus feeling confused, aroused, and nervous all at once.

Harry stopped at a door near the back of the passage, and let himself in with Remus in tow.

“Harry,” Zabini purred his name as he swept forward, and pulled the submissive into a familiar embrace. Remus ground his teeth; why was this man touching what was _his_?

An instant later, Remus shook his head violently.

_What am I thinking?_ Remus thought in a panic, _Harry isn't_ mine _. He's his own person._

“Sir,” Harry replied with a small grin, and the taller man chuckled as he traced the shape of Harry's face with the tip of his finger, then pecked him on the lips.

“I see you brought company,” Zabini continued, while he began to stroke Harry's hair like he was a favoured pet, “care to introduce me?”

“Oh,” Harry turned back to Remus, but continued to lean into Zabini's gentle touches. “This is...er, _John._ I told him if he came with me tonight, you'd teach him a thing or two on how to properly handle a sub like me.”

“Oh Harry, there _are_ no subs like you,” he purred, and wrapped an arm around Harry's bare waist as he levelled his gaze with Remus. “John, was it?” Zabini asked, and Remus nodded, while he thanked his lucky stars that the disguise that Harry had gifted him with seemed to be holding. He couldn't even imagine how mortified he would be if his ex-student worked out his true identity. “Well, John,” he continued, “I must say I'm a little saddened to let my little pet go, but my Harry has always been quite finicky on who he lets take him to heel, so you must be something quite extraordinary.” Harry beamed at the compliment, while Remus flushed a deep scarlet. “Follow me, we'll need a private room for this.”

With a finger hooked through one of the metal rings on Harry's collar, Zabini led him and Remus out of the room and towards a side door, which opened to a slightly smaller room, but with similar items within—a large round bed with all manner of leather cuffs and rings affixed to the headboard, similar chains hung from one of the walls, something that looked like a net was suspended from the ceiling, except made out of strips of leather instead of rope, and one wall was covered in hooks, each one holding a different item, from whips, floggers, and riding crops to dildos in every shape and size, anal plugs, and a number of items Remus did not recognize, and did not feel compelled to try and identify.

Remus licked his lips nervously and turned back to the other two occupants of the room, both of whom were smirking at him knowingly.

“You seem quite tense, John,” Zabini observed, and reached out to squeeze his shoulder. “Come, I'll get you something to help you relax. Harry and I need a moment to prepare anyway—the groom mustn't see the bride before the wedding, after all.”

Remus's gaze flicked to Harry, and he nodded encouragingly. Swallowing his protests, he allowed the younger man to steer him into yet another adjacent room, this one not much bigger than a broom cupboard, and contained a mini-bar and a leather wing-back chair.

Zabini moved smoothly over to the bar and poured him a scotch. He offered it to Remus, and he accepted it with a small, jerky nod of his head. He had assumed the younger man would immediately leave, but instead he swept in close, and brushed his lips against Remus's cheekbone.

“Relax,” he whispered softly, “by the end of the night, you'll see why Harry needs a firm hand. He wants it, if he didn't, he wouldn't be here.”

“You could have coerced him into thinking that he needs this,” Remus remarked, and Zabini chuckled softly.

“Now why would I do that?”

“Because you're a Slytherin.”

“Oh, House prejudice, shame on you!” Zabini replied with another chuckle, and reached down to give Remus's bum a sharp squeeze, which caused him to jump. “If I was a little bit more obsessed with Harry like a certain blond aristocrat I know, maybe that would be true, but as hard as it is for you to believe, Harry really is here of his own volition.” Zabini paused, and looked Remus up and down, the small smirk never leaving his face as he leant back in and kissed Remus on the cheek one last time. “It's a shame you're a dom, I feel like it would be great fun to break you in. Just sit and relax, I'll come fetch you when Harry is ready.”

Without another word, Zabini stepped back and swept from the room, it snapping shut sharply behind him.

Remus sank into the proffered chair, and stared at the door that his ex-student had disappeared behind. He sipped the scotch, but he found that he couldn't enjoy it nearly as much as he normally would have, for even with his heightened senses, he could not clearly hear what was going on in the next room. The voices were heavily muffled, and though he could discern who was who, he could not make out what they were saying, and had to assume that there was a charm of some kind on the door that was inhibiting him from listening in. However, if the lightness of the tones and the muffled sounds of Harry's laughter were anything to go by, at least he didn't seem to be in any immediate danger.

Less than ten minutes later, while Remus enjoyed the low buzz of the alcohol, Zabini let himself back into the room with a small smirk on his face. He didn't say a word, but gently took back the empty glass from Remus before he took his hand and he led him back into the main room where he'd left Harry. As it would turn out, taking away the glass was indeed a good move, given that had he still been holding it when he first caught sight of Harry, there was every chance that he would have dropped it.

Harry was on the bed, his arms stretched out in front of him, his wrists crossed and bound with what looked like some sort of red ribbon. They had been twined through one of the rings on the headboard of the bed, and his head was bowed forward, his glasses removed and eyes covered by a matching red blindfold, and already he seemed to be in a state well beyond simple arousal, for he was panting shallowly.

The black leather shorts he had been wearing were gone, and red leather cuffs had been affixed to his ankles, with red rope threaded through their rings to tie him securely to the bed. A metal bar had been set between his knees, forcing his legs to stay open, and as a final touch, an anal plug had been inserted into his arse, this one decorated with a turquoise-coloured piece of cut glass designed to look like an octagonal gem of some kind. From Remus's vantage point, he could also see that Harry was painfully hard, but aside from his position making it impossible for him to seek out the sort of friction that would bring him to orgasm, he could see that a cock ring had been set in place, making it impossible for Harry to achieve any kind of release until either Remus or Zabini allowed him to.

Remus had never been very interested in bondage of this kind before, but at the sight of Harry, laid out like a sumptuous buffet, he had no idea where to start. His mouth had gone very dry, and he licked his lips unconsciously as he looked on, and his fingertips tingled, aching to touch and explore the young man, but at the same time, he felt almost frozen in place.

“He looks so good like this, doesn't he?” Zabini purred into Remus's ear like some sort of bizarre shoulder-devil. “Like he was _made_ for this sort of submission. You wouldn't think it to look at him, famous Harry Potter, hero to millions, laid out for us to take our pleasure from him...and he'll _love_ every second of it.”

At that exact moment, Harry let out a soft, plaintive whine, and he gyrated his hips with need. The sound shot straight to Remus's groin, and he shuddered a little as he watched the young man tremble in his bindings.

“He's a naughty little thing, isn't he? Trying to get off before we let him,” Zabini continued, and pressed something smooth and hard into Remus's hand. He looked down and his breath caught, for Zabini had handed him a narrow wooden cane. “You're going to teach him a lesson.”

At that exact moment, Harry let out another low moan and squirmed in his bindings, and Zabini chuckled.

“Ten strikes should teach him that only _we_ decide when he may find release, don't you think?”

When Remus didn't immediately move, Zabini hooked his arm through Remus's, and gently coaxed him over to the bedside. Zabini let go of Remus and circled the bed until he was standing next to Harry's bowed head. He reached out and gently combed his fingers through his thick locks.

“Harry, you've been a little naughty, haven't you?”

“Y-yes, sir,” Harry replied weakly, his hips still gyrating a little in his desperate need to get off.

“Who decides when you cum?”

“Y-you do, sir,” Harry replied, panting sharply, his tone of voice very close to a needy whine.

“Your new master is going to teach you a lesson. I want you to count the strikes. If you miss one, we'll start over from the beginning,” Zabini said softly while he continued to stroke Harry's hair, “do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry replied, his voice taking on a distinctly breathless tone that once again shot straight to Remus's groin. Zabini smirked and lifted his gaze to Remus, and nodded his head once.

The narrow cane in Remus's hand suddenly felt very heavy, and the smooth wood no longer innocuous, but as dangerous as a knife. Could he really _hit_ Harry?

“Relax, John,” Zabini whispered, suddenly much closer than Remus remembered him being, and he watched as the young man closed his hand over Remus's gently. “If Harry didn't want this, he would say his word, and we would stop. Pain _can_ be pleasurable, and you could say that Harry...he needs this. Just relax, and move with me.”

Remus watched with morbid fascination as Zabini lifted his arm, adjusted his hold on the cane, and brought it down across the backs of Harry's thighs— _hard_.

Harry shrieked, his back arched, and he threw his head back sharply in response to the blow, his bodily reaction also causing him to tug sharply on his bindings.

“O-one!” he choked out, panting hard, and Zabini smirked.

“Good boy,” he praised, and led Remus's hand in another strike, this one landing squarely across Harry's arse, and hit the plug in the process, earning them another sharp yelp from the bound young man.

“Two!”

Remus, emboldened by the reactions, and lost to the surging feelings of lust and power that overwhelmed him as the blows rained down, barely noticed when Zabini withdrew his hand and Remus struck him again, a little higher this time, very close to his coccyx.

“T-three!”

The strikes continued, and through choking sobs Harry counted out the hits. Remus found himself revelling in Harry's responses, and despite the fact that his blindfold and cheeks were both damp with tears, his erection never wilted, and if anything, seemed to darken the longer the beating went on.

When the last stroke fell, Harry slumped in his bindings, panting hard, and Zabini eased down onto the bed next to Harry, and turned his head to kiss him lightly.

“You did so well, Harry,” he murmured, and reached up to stroke his hair, “your masters are very proud of you.” Zabini reached up to untie the blindfold with one hand, and motioned for Remus to come closer with the other. Remus obeyed, and watched as the blindfold came loose, and Harry's eyes were exposed. He blinked several times, but the dilated pupils did not shrink very much, and his glassy green eyes seemed to sparkle like a pair of precious gems. His eyelashes were damp and clung together slightly, and Remus could not recall ever seeing him happier.

Almost as though he'd been hit with the Imperius Curse, Remus reached out and cupped Harry's cheek in his hand. The young man leant into the touch with a small, contented sigh, a sound close to a purr escaping him as he nuzzled Remus's hand.

“Beautiful...” Remus whispered, and started a little, as he had barely realized that he had been speaking until the word slipped past his lips. Harry looked up at him with something close to a shy smile, and he heard Zabini chuckle next to him.

“Yes, he is, isn't he?” Zabini purred, and reached out to run his fingers through Harry's hair again while Remus continued to stroke his cheek. “He also has the most delightful little mouth...I'm sure he'd be delighted to show you his talents...”

As if in response to their conversation, Harry turned his head and closed his mouth over the tip of Remus's pointer finger, and began to suckle on it softly, very much like a newborn babe. Remus groaned softly and tilted his head back, while Zabini smirked at him knowingly. He turned his attention back to Harry, and eased down onto the bed next to the bound young man. He reached out to stroke his hair, and Harry let out a low moan at the contact.

“Would you like to suck his cock, Harry?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry replied softly as he leant into the touches.

“And would you like to suck his cock while I give you a treat?” Zabini purred, and Harry let out a small whimper of desire. Zabini reached down and pinched one of Harry's nipples none-too-gently, causing Harry to let out a small yelp. “That's not a proper answer, Harry, would you like a treat?”

“Yes, sir, I would like that very much,” he replied, his tone still very breathless, and Remus saw a shiver run through him as his former classmate reached up to caress the skin around the edges of his collar. He looked up at Remus and nodded his head once.

Lost to the thrum of power and lust that had clouded his mind, Remus stood fluidly and circled the bed until he stood directly in front of Harry. The werewolf part of his mind, the part he strove to keep buried as much as possible was rearing its head, and it seemed to keen in pleasure at the sexual dominance of these acts. Harry was panting and watching Remus with hooded eyes, though he was careful to never lock gazes with the older man, as though he knew how Remus's werewolf side would react to such a thing.

As Remus stopped in front of Harry at the head of the bed, Zabini raise his wand and flicked it once. Immediately, the bindings on Harry's wrists transfigured into a pair of cuffs that matched the ones attached to his ankles, and he fell forward, his face hitting the mattress, his arms wholly unprepared to hold his weight. Remus gave Harry a moment to recover, then he pulled himself up on all fours, the new bindings still heavily restricting his movements, but also gave the young man a more comfortable position to access Remus's cock.

Harry caught his bottom lip between his teeth, and he looked up at Remus.

“Sir, may I please suck your cock?” Harry asked, his tone of voice so sweetly innocent that Remus just barely managed to keep from groaning out loud. He reached for Harry and ran his fingers through his perpetually untidy hair, and Harry immediately pressed his head into the older man's hand, very much like an insistent cat wanting to be pet.

“When you beg so prettily, how could I possibly refuse?” he asked rhetorically while with his free hand he moved to the top button of his trousers, and popped it open. Harry watched with rapt attention as Remus thumbed open the short line of buttons, and he licked his lips like he was being offered a gourmet, five-star meal of some kind.

Remus continued to stroke Harry's hair while he pushed down his fitted briefs and extracted his cock, and just barely managed to swallow a prideful smirk at the sharp intake of breath from the sub as he took in the sight of the organ.

Thick, four inches round and eight inches long, cut, with a bead of precum clinging to its tip. It was an enviable cock, and the sole physical side-effect of his Lycanthropy that Remus did not hate.

Harry did not seem to hate it either as he stared at it, and Remus could smell his arousal on the air. He lurched forward, but let out a whine when he realized that he could not reach it.

“Is there something you want, Harry?” Remus asked softly, and his emerald gaze flicked up to Remus.

“Please, sir,” he said softly, “please let me suck you—fuck my mouth... _use me_.”

“Hmm, I could,” Remus mused, “but there is something so endearing about listening to you beg...” Harry whimpered, and lurched in his bindings again, while Zabini, who was watching the pair, smirked and nodded his head approvingly.

“No, sir, please,” Harry pleaded, and Remus was almost certain that he saw a tear in his eye, “I'll do whatever you want, please, just let me taste you, you're so...so... _big._ ”

Remus combed his fingers through Harry's hair again, then grabbed hold of it at the back of his head, and jerked his head up. Where most people would have cried out at the sudden pain, Harry moaned.

“ _Whatever_ I want?” Remus asked, and Harry nodded weakly.

“I'm yours to command...to control...” he replied, and Remus let out a soft groan at the image that Harry had painted for him in barely enough words to constitute a full sentence.

Without another word, Remus pressed the tip of his cock to Harry's lips, and he immediately opened his mouth to accept the organ.

And what a mouth it was.

Harry worked the cock past his lips and into his throat smoothly, and his muscles convulsed around the cock as it pushed past his uvula, he eagerly swallowing the organ and showing no hint of discomfort in the act. Through his haze of arousal, Remus marvelled at Harry's talent, and it was almost as though he was _made_ to suck cock.

When Remus had hilted himself inside Harry's mouth, he drew out slowly and thrust back in, and Harry took it, and seemed to be moaning around the cock in his throat, as though he drew pleasure from servicing his so-called _master_.

“You can go faster than that,” Zabini commented, and Remus glanced up to see the younger man watching them while he palmed himself through his trousers. “Harry has a very talented mouth, and he can take it.”

Taking the Slytherin's word for it, Remus slid out of Harry's throat again and thrust back in more quickly, and true to his word, Harry seemed to have no problems accepting Remus's rough treatment, and indeed squirmed more insistently against his bindings, and moaned like a bitch in heat every time Remus slid momentarily from his throat.

Remus was so lost in pleasure, he had rather forgotten that one particular quirk of his werewolf physiology would 'out' him, as it were, to the former student that was watching him fuck Harry's mouth, and as he muttered softly, “ _take a deep breath._ ”

He waited until Harry had obeyed before he thrust back into his throat as the base of his cock swelled, and he locked himself inside Harry's mouth as he found his release with a loud, pleasured grunt.

Remus heard Harry let out a muffled sound of surprise at this turn of events, but did not seem to be in any immediate discomfort as he swallowed the thick ropes of cum that shot into his throat, and he breathed shallowly through his nose as they waited for his knot to deflate. Remus could see a thin line of drool leaking from the corner of Harry's mouth, and when Remus looked back up, he could see that Zabini's eyes were glittering with amusement—and recognition.

“Professor,” he said with a small nod of his head, “my, my...this _is_ a surprise.”

Remus blanched when he realized what his orgasm had done, and he could feel Harry quivering around his cock, as though he was trying to keep himself from laughing. He frowned at the young man, but kept as still as he could in an effort to not gag or suffocate Harry with his cock. He reached down to stroke Harry's hair as he stared at his former student, and he found the action of petting Harry like this oddly relaxing.

“Mr Zabini, I—” Remus began as his former student circled Harry and strode over to him, but he was quick to interrupt the older man.

“—Please, Blaise,” he said as he reached out and touched Remus's chest with his fingertips, and trailed them down to his open trousers. “I hardly think such courtesies are really necessary at this stage, do you?”

To the remark, Remus felt himself flush a deep scarlet, and Blaise's smirk widened into an amused grin. He reached down farther and cupped Remus's bollocks in his hand, but so soon after ejaculation they were terribly sensitive, and he shivered.

“Professor Snape taught us a great deal about werewolves in your absence, possibly more than was really appropriate for a third year class, but I digress...” he trailed off as he squeezed Remus's bollocks firmly, but not painfully, as he continued to stare at his former teacher. “Such as the fact that werewolves are deeply protective and possessive of their mate or mates. They don't like people touching them, or being near them, especially too close to either side of the full moon. But perhaps you can find it in your heart to allow me the honour of sharing your little sub with me? I've had the chance to share him quite a few times, and, my God, it's like he was _made_ to take more than one cock at a time...”

Remus's hand stilled in Harry's hair.

“Who else?” he demanded, and winced at the overwhelming sense of jealousy that flared in his chest. He felt his knot shrink _just_ enough to separate himself from Harry, and he pulled away from him with an obscene, wet _pop!_ and Harry sucked in air greedily as he sought to catch his breath. Remus meanwhile, paid Harry almost no mind as he focused intently on Blaise.

“A gentleman never kisses and tells,” Blaise teased as he reached down for Harry and began to gently massage the hinge of his jaw, while Harry fell to the bed heavily, his body still spreadeagled, but radiating exhaustion and arousal in equal measure. “Let's just say that your Harry has tasted his fair share of... _forbidden fruits._ This is his first time with a werewolf, as far as I know, though.”

“Harry's not mine,” Remus began awkwardly, while he struggled to ignore his flaring emotions of both desire and embarrassment, and he focused instead on Blaise's earlier phrasing. “He's—he's—”

“—he's a submissive,” Blaise cut in in a deadpan tone of voice, “a submissive who loves being dominated and claimed, as though he holds no more importance in one's life than that of a teakettle. He lives to spread his legs for people like us, and he loves every second of it. Would you really deny him all that, knowing full-well it's what he wants...what he _needs_?”

Blaise's hand moved to Harry's collar, and he trailed his fingertips along the edges of it, and Remus watch Harry quiver—though whether it was from exhaustion or desire, he was uncertain.

The onslaught of new information was making Remus a little dizzy, in particular the idea of Harry with dozens of other men. The mental image of faceless people taking their pleasure from Harry in any way they wished made him want to _hurt_ something. He clenched his teeth and let out a low growl.

The sound was almost deafening in the silence of their private room, and the vocalization caused Harry to moan with desire, while Blaise's eyes widened a little, and his smirk returned. He closed the distance between them, and leant in as though to kiss Remus, but stopped a hairsbreadth from the older man's lips.

“Allow me the honour of cleaving his arse wide open for our dual use? I assure you, he will not complain.”

The strong smell of sex in the room, paired with his recent orgasm, and the closeness of Blaise, his enviable erection pressing into Remus's thigh was all very distracting, and not at all conductive to clear thinking. He didn't want to hurt Harry, or take advantage of him, but in this setting, he needed to remind himself that Harry would likely _want_ to be hurt, and beg for more.

Forcing the concerns to the back of his mind, Remus nodded his head.

 


	4. Part IV: Safeword

Part IV: Safeword

 

Harry lay in his bindings, a drying track of saliva on his cheek, and he was panting heavily. Blaise and Remus sat on either side of him, and Remus followed Blaise's lead, stroking Harry's hair, offering him gentle but domineering wet kisses, until at last Harry claimed that he felt ready to continue.

“Neither of us are small,” Blaise said conversationally as he strode over to the wall of toys, his finger trailing over the dildos in every shape and size one could think of, “and he's already a little stretched from his plug, but I think he could be a little more prepared...” his hand paused over an almost comically large, black dildo, its head thicker than Remus's closed fist, and he shivered a little at the prospect of anything that large going anywhere _near_ his arse.

“Oh, I was going to prepare him and let you watch, but I just got a _much_ better idea...” Blaise said as he picked up the toy and a jar of lubricant before he moved back over to Harry, and conjured a pair of ornately hewn chairs that faced the bed, very much like spectator seats at some sort of event.

“Harry, my pet,” Blaise said as he flicked his wand to free Harry of his restraints, to which the submissive let out an unhappy whimper, “I was going to do this myself, but I'm finding that I'm a little tired. Be good now, and give us a show.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said in a sinfully low and sultry tone of voice as he accepted the toy and lubricant from his master, “it would be my _pleasure._ ”

Blaise and Remus sat down in the chairs, and Remus felt his heartbeat triple in speed in an instant as Harry eased back, his legs dropped open, and he caught sight of his winking hole, obscured by the glinting end of the anal plug that was still nestled in his arse. Harry looked genuinely remorseful as he grabbed hold of the end of it and began to pull, tilting it up and down, left and right, until at last the metal implement slid out, and Remus gaped at the sheer _size_ of the thing. It was easily three or four inches wide, and as large as a mango.

Harry spelled it clean, then set it aside as he picked up the lubricant. He dipped his fingers in the clear gel, and moved to slick up the toy, while never taking his eyes off the two men—his two _masters_.

Remus felt that in that moment, Harry very much looked like a wanton whore—in the best possible way. His hair was tousled, his chest was shining with sweat, Remus's acute sense of smell could note just how aroused the young man was, and he caught his bottom lip between his teeth as he grinned a little as he continued to looked over at the two dominants, and slowly moved the toy to his waiting arse.

He watched with something close to awe as Harry pressed the head of the gargantuan toy to his prepared hole, and sighed blissfully as it very slowly inched past the guardian muscles of his arse and slid inside. Harry's head dropped backward, his legs were splayed open in a filthy display of lurid sexuality, and he continued to work the enormous toy into himself without pause.

Remus could feel himself growing hard at beautiful the sight before him—Harry's skin was shining with sweat, and he looked less like the boy-wizard that he had known, and more like some sort of gilded God. His flesh glimmered like beaten gold, his chest heaved with each inch of fake cock that he shoved into himself, and he looked utterly lost in pleasure. With the presence of the cock ring, Harry was still incredibly hard, and his cock seemed to be almost purple now with his burning need for release. His voice escaped him in something between a garbled moan and a whimper—though Remus could not tell whether it was from pleasure or pain.

A sudden touch to Remus's thigh caused him to jump, and he looked down to see Blaise's hand very casually inching up towards his groin. His traitorous cock tented his trousers further at the sensation, and his keen werewolf hearing picked up on the former Slytherin letting out a soft, amused chuckle at his reaction. He chanced a glance up to the younger man's face, and the look resting there was a clear request to continue.

Remus nodded.

Blaise's smirk widened, and his hand slid the rest of the way up Remus's thigh to the zip, and he felt himself caught between the tiny voice in the back of his head, fervently protesting at the sheer _wrongness_ of letting an ex-student touch him like this, and the electrifying thrill that seemed to be something of an undercurrent to the entire evening thus far.

Blaise, on the other hand, did not seem at all perturbed by the concept of touching not just an older man, but his former professor. He pulled down the zip and extracted Remus's already rock-hard cock without even a moment's hesitation, and Remus shuddered at the exquisite feeling of another person's hand touching him—it had been _far_ too long since he'd felt something like this.

Not to be outdone, Remus swallowed the last remnants of his reservations and reached across to mirror Blaise's actions. At the same moment a lewd moan sounded from the bed in front of them, and they both turned to see that Harry had stilled his movements, and he was watching the pair of them with wide, lustful eyes.

“Ah, ah, ah, Harry,” Blaise intoned in a sing-song tone of voice, “did either of us tell you to stop?”

“N-no, sir,” Harry said nervously, while he panted heavily and watched Blaise's hand stroke up and down Remus's length, while Remus did the same to Blaise. The former Slytherin acted as though there was no hand on his cock as he spoke to Harry, who now looked _very_ nervous, though Remus had no idea if the expression was feigned for the scene, or genuine.

“Then why have you stopped?” Blaise continued, while he kept up a leisurely pace on Remus's cock, and he bit the inside of his cheek to stifle a groan, while Harry let out a soft whimper at the same time.

“I-I'm sorry, sir,” Harry said quickly, “I just—you two looked so good together and I—”

“—you've seen me pleasure other people in front of you before, Harry,” Blaise interrupted, “why is Professor Lupin any different?”

“Because—b-because...” Harry flushed a deep scarlet as his gaze flicked to Remus, his expression pleading.

Remus's hand retracted from Blaise's cock, and he let out a grunt of annoyance, but offered up no verbal complaint as Remus rose from his seat and crossed over to the bed. Harry looked up at him with a confusing mixture of arousal and fear on his face, but Remus's keen senses could only smell heavy arousal coming off the submissive, and nothing else.

Remus reached down and took hold of the absurdly large toy embedded in Harry's arse, and slowly began to thrust it in and out of the young man, while he regarded Harry with a blank, almost detached expression, like he was an entomologist studying a fly.

“Harry, did you disobey your Masters' commands?” Remus asked softly, while he continued to move the toy, so absurdly slowly that Harry had begun to squirm, as though attempting to keep himself from demanding that the older man to go faster.

“Y-yes, sir...” Harry replied weakly in between soft moans as he rocked in time to the toy's thrusts.

“Did you enjoy watching us together?” Remus asked, and Harry whimpered as he nodded his head, his eyes clamping shut and his breath escaping him as a shuddering gasp.

Remus did not verbally respond to Harry, but slowly removed the toy, spelled it clean, and tossed it over to Blaise, who caught it easily.

“It seems Harry is more interested in watching us than seeking out his own pleasure or preparing himself properly,” Remus said mildly, to which Harry whimpered feebly, as though he had a guess as to where this was going. He arched a brow at Blaise, and the other man's mouth stretched into a lazy smirk.

“Quite right, Professor,” he said smoothly as he stood up to put away the toy, then joined Remus in standing over Harry. “Well, if Harry just wants to _watch,_ then we can certainly oblige him... _incarcerous._ ”

Blaise flicked his wand at Harry, and he yelped in surprise as his arms jerked behind his back and ropes encircled his wrists and ankles. Blaise stopped long enough to ensure that the bindings were not too tight, then moved back to Remus. Without further preamble, the pair climbed onto the bed to sit in front of Harry, Blaise grabbed the front of Remus's robes, and kissed him hard.

Remus realized at once that Harry's journal had been right.

The man was indeed a _fantastic_ kisser.

Around Blaise's heady kiss, Remus could hear Harry whimpering, less like a person in pain, and more like a dog being denied a real treat. He could see him squirming and fidgeting, breathing heavily while he watched the pair, and Remus felt a strange sense of satisfaction at teasing Harry like this.

Though Remus and Blaise were doing little more than kissing and palming each other's exposed cocks, to Remus it felt more like a dance—a dance of dominance that his wolf positively revelled in. Blaise would reach up and press a hand to Remus's shoulder in an effort to pin him to the bedspread, and Remus would turn the move around on him. He sunk his teeth into the young man's bottom lip—never enough to break the skin, but certainly enough to hurt, and moved to press _him_ down instead. Blaise would laugh into Remus's mouth, and he would try again.

Neither man seemed to grow impatient by the constant efforts to dominate the other, and interspersed with the attempts Remus and Blaise in turn both helped each other shed their clothing. Once the last article had fallen to join the growing pile on the floor, they both turned in perfect sync to face Harry.

Harry, in contrast to Remus feeling both relaxed and aroused, looked both deeply frustrated—and aroused. He was fidgeting near-constantly, his cock had gone well past red in his deep desire to get off, and his gaze was flitting between Remus and Blaise, his eyes pleading as he stared at them.

“Is there something you want, Harry?” Blaise asked sweetly, and he reached out as though to touch the submissive, but seemed to change his mind halfway through the action, and instead moved to rest his palm against Remus's thigh, and gave it a small squeeze. To Blaise's question, Harry nodded fervently. The dominant arched a brow, and Harry's face flushed a faint pink. Blaise repeated the question. “Is there something you want, Harry?”

“Y-yes, sir,” Harry said softly, and squirmed in his bindings again.

“What do you want?”

“You—both of you,” Harry said as he squirmed, his eyes wide with desperate need. Remus had a feeling that Harry's desperation had hit such a peak where he was not above anything anymore—if they asked him to self-fellate himself, he would probably do it without question.

To Harry's request, Blaise lifted his hand off Remus's thigh and reached for him again. Harry let out a contented sigh very close to a purr as Blaise ran his fingers through his hair. Blaise chuckled as he shifted away from Remus, and pulled the bound submissive carefully into his lap.

Harry leant back against Blaise's chest, his eyelids fluttering as the dominant continued to stroke his hair. Blaise's lips fell to the side of Harry's throat, and Remus felt his breath catch at the sheer beauty of Harry's golden skin being worshipped so completely by Blaise's lips and tongue.

Remus inched forward, a little uncertainly at first, and his mouth fell to cover Harry's in a deep kiss, and the bound young man trembled, as though he had no idea where to move his body so that he could lean in to both Remus and Blaise's touch at the same time. His lips trailed from Harry's flushed mouth to his jaw, and down to his throat, once more mirroring Blaise as he bit down and suckled on his pulse point, leaving a blushing love bite in its wake. Harry moaned feebly, and shuddered under the dual attentions of Blaise's soft, tender kisses, and Remus's more rough ones that he was now trailing from Harry's throat, along his collarbone, and down his chest.

“Please, please...” Harry whimpered, his breath escaping him as a shuddering gasp as he arched into the touch. Remus pressed his palm against Harry's heaving abdomen, and inched back up to lick the shell of Harry's ear, earning him another plaintive moan.

“Please _what_ , Harry?” Remus purred, and he heard Blaise chuckle softly.

“Please, sirs, please fuck me...I—I need it...” Harry whimpered the words so sweetly, and Remus felt himself grow—if possible—even harder at the sound of it. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he felt part of his conscience chastising him for his arousal at Harry's begging, but he was well beyond caring at that point.

“And who are we to deny such a sweet plea?” Blaise asked rhetorically, and Remus heard him mutter an incantation as Harry's wrists and ankles sprang apart.

Blaise pushed Harry onto Remus more fully, and Harry immediately latched his arms around Remus's neck, almost childlike, while the other dominant moved to the head of the bed, and sat back against the headboard. He folded his arms behind his head, and smirked at the pair of his bedfellows.

“I'm feeling rather tired, Harry,” Blaise said smoothly, “come over here and ride me. Your werewolf is going to fuck you from behind.”

Both Harry and Remus groaned at the imagery that Blaise had painted for them, and Harry offered Remus one last kiss before he eagerly scrambled over to the other dominant.

Without a moment's hesitation, Harry straddled Blaise, and the dominant flicked his wand at Harry while he muttered under his breath, and Remus knew instinctively that it had to be a lubrication spell of some sort, given the way Harry shuddered as the spell hit him, and the way his arse cheeks tensed weakly at the sensation.

Remus watched Harry balance himself on his knees and sink down slowly onto Blaise's cock with a contented sigh, he began to wonder if Harry even _could_ take them both at once.

Harry began to rock his hips, soft, sweet, little sounds of pleasure escaping his throat as he moved, while he arched his neck to look over his shoulder at Remus. His eyes were sparkling with longing, and his gaze dropped down to Remus's prominent erection, and he licked his lips lewdly.

Entranced by the simple act, Remus shifted forward and settled himself down between Blaise's legs and at Harry's back. His gaze was fixed on Harry's arse, and the thick cock therein. It seemed quite impossible that he would fit in next to Blaise, while both the young men appeared quite convinced that it would be no problem at all.

“You don't need to worry about Harry's arse,” Blaise said as though he'd read Remus's thoughts, his fingers one more buried in Harry's hair, stroking it while he gazed past the submissive and over to Remus. “Harry's arse is quite practised in taking more than one cock at once, I assure you.”

“Please, sir,” Harry said, his eyes wide and pleading, “I want to feel _both_ my masters in me.”

“What sort of master would you be if you denied such a sweet plea?” Blaise asked while he arched a brow at Remus.

“You two are a terrible influence,” Remus muttered, and the remark was met with a matching pair of grins.

Remus inched forward, and both his hands fell to Harry's pert arse, still striped red and a faint tinge of purple from the earlier caning. He kneaded the globes of flesh gently, and Harry let out a soft moan as he moved continually, fucking himself on Blaise's cock, while he alternately pressed his arse into Remus's hands. The older man leant in and brushed his lips against the hollow of Harry's throat, over the mark he'd left there earlier.

“For a submissive, you're awfully pushy,” Remus remarked, and Harry laughed softly.

“For a dominant, you're awfully gentle,” Harry shot back, but something in his tone suggested that it was not a compliment.

Remus nipped at Harry's throat one final time, and he rested a hand on Harry's hip to still his movements. He froze immediately, while the older man flicked his wand at his index and middle fingers, coating them in a slick lubricant. He did not miss the amused look Harry and Blaise exchanged, but he chose to ignore it as he slid the two fingers in next to Blaise's cock, and smiled inwardly when he saw both young men tremble at the sensation.

Remus took his time preparing Harry's arse, determined that he not inadvertently injure the submissive, no matter how much he claimed that his arse could take—if he accidentally knotted inside Harry, it was very likely that he'd hurt him.

At long last, Remus removed his fingers and cast a quick cleansing charm on them before he lined himself up next to Blaise's cock, and bit back a laugh at the almost pornographic moan that issued from Harry's mouth even before he'd begun to penetrate him. He wrapped an arm around the front of Harry's chest, his fingers digging a little harder than was necessary into his shoulder as he bit and licked at Harry's throat while he began to slide his cock in next to Blaise's.

Below the pair, Blaise let out a grunt of his own. The intense pressure of the two large cocks encased in the small space was dizzying in its intensity, and Remus felt marginally amazed that neither of them spontaneously came at that exactly moment.

“Oh, oh _God..._ ” Harry moaned as he arched his back and pressed himself fast against Remus's chest while he bore down on the two cocks at the same time.

Remus inched inside of Harry, more slowly than was likely necessary, all three of them panting hard and slick with sweat. Harry whimpered as he tried to back up onto Remus's cock, but Blaise's hands shot up and gripped his hips, forcing him to keep still. Harry shuddered under the dual constriction of Remus's arm and Blaise's hands, and Remus felt his stomach turn over uneasily when he saw Harry's eyes snap shut, and a single tear streaked his cheek.

It seemed as though Harry could sense his sudden reluctance, as he squirmed in their arms, and gasped for breath as his arse clenched around Remus's cock.

“P-please, sir,” Harry murmured softly, “please...”

“We'll worry about your unique biology when the time... _comes_ ,” Blaise added, and Remus couldn't help but snort at the truly awful pun. “Don't worry, Professor,” he continued, his voice dropping to a more serious tone, “if Harry wanted us to stop, he would have said his word. Despite outward appearances, he really is fine.”

The reminder was not quite as reassuring to Remus as Blaise seemed to think that it was, but he did trust that Harry knew his own limits, and pressed forward, stopping only when he was hilted in Harry's arse next to the other dominant.

“Oh, Harry,” Remus purred, falling back into the mindset of a dominant partner, and bowed his head forward to nip at the hollow of his throat again, “you feel truly exquisite.”

“Th-thank you, sir,” Harry replied, his tone breathless as he trembled between the two dominants at his front and back. Despite the tears on his face, he seemed to be in a heightened state of euphoric ecstasy.

Remus met Blaise's eye over Harry's shoulder, and ever so slowly, all three men began to move.

It was awkward at first, they all trying to find their rhythm with one another, but slowly they fell into a synchronized dance, with Remus moving in time with Harry, who was being guided by Blaise's hands as he gyrated his hips in time with his two partners. It was more intense than Remus ever expected it to be, and almost dizzying in its intensity. Each movement from Blaise, and every time Harry's arse tensed over their cocks was like being struck by lightning, and Remus swore he could feel those jolts of pleasure in every part of his body.

As Remus felt himself getting close, his hand dropped to Blaise's calf, and he gave it a sharp squeeze of warning. Blaise understood and adjusted his angle, ensuring that he all but battered Harry's insides with his brutal thrusts, and Harry, far from crying out in pain, grunted his pleasure with each thrust. At the last possible moment Blase pulled himself from Harry's arse and painted the submissive's abdomen with thick ropes of semen. At the same moment, Remus let out a shuddering cry as he knotted Harry's arse, and pumped him full of his own seed.

Wobbling a little, Blaise sat up and helped the pair to lie down, while he sandwiched Harry on his other side.

“Oh, Harry, you did so well,” Blaise praised, and shifted closer to offer him a small kiss. Remus smiled tiredly as he watched the pair's light peck devolve into languid snogging, while the three of them waited for Remus's knot to deflate. As they waited, Remus also offered his silent praise to Harry for his part in their play, rubbing his arms and bestowing light kisses to his throat, earning him soft, contented sighs.

Twenty minutes passed, and Remus was finally able to pull out. Harry rolled onto his back, panting hard. The reason for his heavy breathing was as clear as day, but Remus, for the moment, felt quite content to ignore it.

“Harry, what's the matter?” Remus asked innocently, and rested a hand on the submissive's thigh. “You seem pretty out of breath...were we too hard on you?”

“You—you didn't let me cum,” Harry whimpered, and arched his hips a little as though attempting to make his throbbing erection more visible. “please let me cum?”

Blaise ran his hand over Harry's erection, while Remus cupped his swollen bollocks. Harry whimpered, but both dominants ignored him as they locked gazes.

“What do you think, Professor?” Blaise asked, “has our little sub behaved himself—does he deserve release?”

“He _is_ a demanding little thing...” Remus remarked, and gave Harry's bollocks a firm squeeze, earning him a sharp gasp from the younger man, “...but I cannot say that I didn't enjoy myself. I'd say he's earned it.”

Blaise's mouth stretched into a smirk, and he plucked his wand off the side table and aimed it at the cock ring. Taking careful aim, Blaise tapped the ring of silver once, and the reaction was instantaneous.

With a sharp cry, Harry's body shuddered as he mixed his own semen with Blaise's upon his stomach, his back arched, and his head pressed back hard into the mattress. He fell to the bed, boneless, and lay there panting harshly, and stared off at the ceiling of the room with a dazed expression upon his face.

Blaise immediately sat up and retrieved Harry's glasses for him, and gently slid them onto his face.

“C'mon,” he said to Remus as he donned a dressing gown, and handed Remus and Harry matching ones. “Pick Harry up and follow me.”

Remus obeyed, and scooped Harry up bridal-style. He immediately linked his arms around Remus's neck, and pressed his head against the older man's clavicle.

“You were _amazing_ , Remus,” Harry breathed, his voice barely above a whisper as they left the privacy of their suite, and crossed the hall to another room, this one holding a very large bath, much like the Hogwarts Prefect bath, though somewhat smaller and octagonal in shape.

“So were you,” Remus replied as he sat down at the bath's edge, and continued to hold Harry while Blaise went about filling the bath with water and sweet scented oils. “That was...intense. Amazing. I—I have no words for it.”

“Cathartic?” Harry prompted, and Remus nodded his head.

“That too,” he agreed, and his hold on Harry tensed a little. He smiled wearily up at the older man, just as Blaise circled back over to them.

Harry's agemate did not say a word, but shed his dressing gown and slid into the hot water, both Harry and Remus following suit, while Harry fumbled with the clasps on his collar, and laid it down on top of the thin garments.

After all the time he'd seen Harry in the thing, it was almost strange to see him go without it as he slid into the water next to Blaise, and Remus sandwiched the young man between them.

The comedown from the _session_ , as he heard both Harry and Blaise refer to it as was just as blissful as the session itself. _Aftercare_ , he remembered it being called thanks to his snooping, and indeed _care_ was the word for it.

Kisses were exchanged, and the trio took turns washing each other before they all just lay back and relaxed, basking in the warmth of the water, the sweet scent of the lavender oil, and each other's company.

Harry's head had slumped to rest against Remus's shoulder, and he seemed to be caught somewhere between sleep and waking, utterly worn out from their earlier activities.

“I keep trying to talk him into playing our games full-time,” Blaise commented softly while he reached out to stroke Harry's hair, “you know—have him wear the collar all the time, write up a contract, all of that, but he's always refused. That surprised me, I have to say, because he always looked kind of regretful whenever he said it.”

“He lives part of the year with me and my son,” Remus replied as he took a turn stroking Harry's damp hair, “he's six, he wouldn't understand why his Uncle Harry is constantly wearing a collar, or calling someone _Sir_. I agree that sex and sexuality should not be shielded from children, but there is an invisible line that we do not cross. I believe Harry's refusals were because of him, and not wanting to do something that would possibly hurt my son in some way.”

“I understand,” Blaise said quickly, understanding dawning in his eyes as he said it, “no, that makes complete sense. If I had a child, I'd feel the same. Sexuality and Kink are two very different things, and to expose a young child to that...I understand.” He grimaced at the repeated phrasing while Remus smiled tiredly at the young man.

“Thank you.”

 

It took another hour for Harry to recover enough from their session before he felt ready to Apparate home. In that time, the triad removed themselves from the bath, dried off, and dressed themselves in their respective dressing gowns and they returned to the private room.

Blaise took Harry's robe from him, and bid him to lie back down on the bed, and Remus watched as the young man coaxed Harry onto his stomach, pulled a small tub of some sort of salve from the night table, and proceeded to massage it into the welts left by Remus earlier.

Remus lay on Harry's other side, and was content to offer him light kisses while he seemed to purr at Blaise's gentle attentions.

When it was time to leave, Remus was surprised at how reluctant he was to go.

Blaise seemed to feel the same; there was a look of reluctance in his eyes as he took his hands off of Harry, and despite Harry's proclamations earlier that week that Blaise was not one to _settle_ , as it were, from where Remus stood it certainly seemed like the young man cared for Harry more than he was letting on.

“Thank you, Mr Zabini,” Remus began as he stepped towards the young man, “the evening was most...illuminating.” Before he could overthink the action, he closed the distance between them in a searing kiss, one that Remus was pleased to see, seemed to have momentarily stolen the dominant's breath. He pulled back ever so slightly, and whispered against his lips, “it is true that werewolves are unwilling to share their mates with others, but I would certainly not object to _sharing_ Harry with you in the future.”

“Oh, really?” Blaise asked, an amused glint appearing in his eye, and Remus met the look with a small smile.

Remus did not answer him, but wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulders and lifted his opposite hand in a lazy wave, then turned and led their submissive out of the club. Harry leant against his side, a brilliant smile painted across his face as he allowed himself to be led out, and Remus did not let him go until they had returned to Grimmauld Place.

Andromeda did not seem overly surprised to find them returning arm in arm, and instead offered them a small nod of approval. They bid her goodnight and traipsed upstairs, careful to keep their footsteps soft, so at to not wake Teddy.

Harry slipped into his own room, and Remus felt his heart fall a little at the move. He wasn't quite sure if what he and Harry had would qualify as a _relationship_ in the strictest sense of the word, but it certainly was... _something._ Remus's shoulders slumped a little, and he turned his back on Harry's bedroom door, only to be met with a surprise when Harry exited it again not a full minute after he had gone inside, a pair of wadded up pyjamas in his hand, and they nearly collided with one another.

“I'm sorry—” Harry began.

“I thought—” Remus said at the same time.

They both broke off with an awkward laugh, and Harry closed the distance between them. He got up on his toes to kiss Remus lightly, and Remus instinctively wrapped his arms around Harry's waist in an effort to draw it out.

“I was just putting my stuff away,” Harry explained softly, “I wanna go to sleep with you tonight...unless you'd rather I not?” Harry paused, his voice taking on a nervous tone. “I mean, do you not want Teddy to see us like that?”

“No, no, not at all, Harry,” Remus said quickly, and kissed him again. “It would be my honour to fall asleep with you. I thought _you_ didn't want to...” he trailed off and shook his head. “It's been a long night, we'll discuss the particulars tomorrow, when we're both more or less conscious.”

Harry's uncertain look vanished as he relaxed, and arm in arm they headed to Remus's bedroom, where they both got changed, and slipped into the modestly sized bed. It would have normally been a tight squeeze, but Harry seemed quite keen to snuggle up as close to Remus as he could, and was asleep so quickly, it was almost as though he'd downed a large dose of a Sleeping Draught.

Remus lay awake a while longer, stroking Harry's hair idly while he watched him sleep.

The night had begun as something nerve-wracking—almost terrifying, and ended most unexpectedly. He'd never seen Harry so at peace before, and the memories of all that they had done, both together and with Blaise had been a revelation. He could see now why Harry loved it so much, and he, too, was very much looking forward to repeating the experience.

Is thoughts turned to Blaise, and the soft promise he had issued to the young man as they left.

_It is true that werewolves are unwilling to share their mates with others, but I would certainly not object to_ sharing _Harry with you in the future._

Remus smiled, and he propped his chin against the top of Harry's head as he fell asleep.

 

Life was about to get _very_ interesting.

 


	5. Epilogue: The Show Must Go On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: **Warning** this chapter contains a brief scene of wax play and blood play. It's nothing intensely gory, but if blood grosses you out...consider yourself warned.
> 
> I was gonna wait a day or so before I posted to epilogue, but I have no internet at home and the Library has switched to their Summer Hours, meaning the library would be closed tomorrow, so...you guys get both final chapters at once ^^

Epilogue: The Show Must Go On

 

**Six Months Later**

 

Outside, the wind was howling, and blinding snow blew in the streets, but inside the club it was warm and comfortable. Despite the weather, _Cock and Bull_ was almost full to capacity, which wasn't a surprise when they all knew who was to perform that night.

Harry Potter.

The only sub in the circuit with not one, but _two_ dominants.

And tonight was the first time they were to perform together.

Remus Lupin peered out of the shut curtain, and swallowed thickly at the large crowd. At the same moment, an arm wrapped around his waist, and a head perched upon his shoulder.

“Nervous?” Harry asked sweetly, and Remus almost laughed.

“I can't _believe_ you two talked me into this...” Remus muttered as he turned to face Harry, who was dressed in his customary black leather short-shorts and matching collar. To the remark, Harry offered the older man a small smirk, and arched up to kiss him.

“You'll be brilliant, I know it.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“I know you, I trust you, and I've seen you in our practice sessions,” Harry said with the same note of confidence in his voice, while his hand trailed down to Remus's left hand, where a brass ring sat on his finger. “And maybe one day you'll take this thing off when we're here.”

“And what did I tell you would happen if someone discovered my identity while I was here?” Remus asked mildly.

“I know, I know,” Harry said with a dismissive wave of his hand, “they'll go running to the school governors, and you'll be burned at the stake and Teddy will go live with some sort of awful foster family who runs a child labour camp on the side. Right?”

“Something like that,” Remus replied with a small snort, and Harry grinned at him, moving in for a quick kiss just as Blaise stepped over to join them.

“Ready to go?” Blaise asked Harry, and the submissive smiled brightly.

Both Remus and Blaise kissed Harry deeply, it heated enough for Remus's cock to twitch in interest, then Blaise pulled the other dominant close for a commanding kiss of his own. Remus met it with equal force, and he did not miss the soft titter from Harry as he observed them.

Blaise wrapped an arm around Harry's waist and led him out to the stage, still hidden from the audience's view by a heavy red curtain. Remus hung back to watch—Blaise was much more adept at creating truly erotic poses for Harry when he bound him, and in this, Remus was quite content to let him take the lead.

Remus thought back on the past six months as he watched them go, a small smile playing across his lips as he did so. He'd learnt so much about himself, things he'd never known before, and it still amazed him that their sessions of 'play' as Blaise and Harry often called it, could be as healing to his mind as an overpriced session with a Mind Healer.

He could recall those first few weeks following his introduction to this strange, erotic world, and his abject denial that he had enjoyed it as much as Harry and Blaise had. Harry had smiled through Remus's dismissive responses that he had no intention of delving full time, so to speak, into such a life.

And yet, every Saturday, Remus found himself at the club with Harry and Blaise.

Inflamed flesh, Harry's sweet cries, and blinding pleasure all drifted through his mind, and he found himself getting hard at the mere memories of all that they had done together.

Beyond bedroom activities, Blaise had slowly been inching his way more permanently into Remus and Harry's lives. He had even joined them for tea once or twice, where Blaise proved that despite his aloof, aristocratic air, he loved children, and was quite taken with Teddy, and was quite happy to keep the child occupied when Remus was busy—with Harry's help, of course.

 

A hand on Remus's arm drew him from his musings, and he saw Blaise standing before him, his own costume for the evening draped over his arm.

“It's almost time,” he said simply, “you better get ready.”

Remus nodded and accepted the clothing from Blaise. Unlike his own ensemble—which was a pair of leather trousers and nothing more—Remus's was something closer to a complete set of clothes, albeit well outside his comfort zone. It was something Remus could have seen Sirius wearing, but certainly not him.

He stepped into one of the available changing rooms, and eyed the clothing again. Leather trousers, similar in style to Blaise's, though marginally less constrictive, and a black sleeveless shirt that rested high on his throat, but still managed to show off his physique rather well.

Though he hardly led an active life being a professor and small-time author, his werewolf blood, paired with the strain of the monthly transformations meant that he put on muscle easily. As a result, his arms were toned, crisscrossed with pearlescent scars, but not overwhelmingly muscular.

He tugged on the clothing a few times to adjust how it sat on his body, then slipped into a pair of black dragonhide boots before he stepped back out and headed for the side of the stage.

“Damn,” Blaise remarked with a low whistle when he saw him, “I have half a mind to leave Harry out there and take you into one of the back rooms myself.”

Blaise closed the distance between them, his index finger curled in the waistband of the trousers and pulled him close. Chuckling, Remus indulged him for a moment, their mouths meeting in an intense, heated kiss.

“I do have one question for you, before we go out there,” Remus murmured as he broke the kiss, while he ignored Blaise's soft, frustrated groan.

“Yeah?”

“Harry...we've put him through a lot,” Remus said thoughtfully, his gaze shifting to their bound and waiting sub as he spoke, “spankings, beatings, cutting, that piercing art you did one time...and never once have I heard him use his safeword. Has he ever used it? At all? Does he even _have_ a limit?”

“Only once, back when we first started our games on a regular basis,” Blaise replied, frowning a little as he followed Remus's gaze over to Harry. “I didn't hurt him, not physically, at least. I called him ' _boy_ ' in lieu of his name, something like, _'on your knees, Boy.'_ He panicked and said his word, and for a second I thought he'd hurt himself or something, and he just begged me to never call him that, in that tone. He never explained to me why, though. Do you have any ideas?”

“It likely has to do with his upbringing...to say that his relatives were unkind to him would be something of a massive understatement, from the tidbits of things Harry has told me of them over the years,” Remus answered with a small frown, “I can't be certain, though—he's always been rather closed-mouthed about his childhood with those muggles.”

Blaise opened his mouth, but he was impeded from continuing his conversation by the soft rush of the curtain being pulled back.

Applause followed the sound, and Blaise stepped away from Remus to grab two masquerade masks off a small table, white and gold for him, silver and black for Remus. They both affixed the masks to their faces, and turned towards the stage, Remus's heart in his throat as he followed the younger man out to polite applause. It took everything he had to keep walking and not stop dead in his tracks once he saw Harry.

The chair upon which their submissive was bound barely counted as a chair, given that there was barely a scant few inches of space to sit, and it was high enough that his arse barely touched the seat, making it appear more like he was standing, which made the 'chair' look more like some sort of post. His head was tilted back, and his blindfolded eyes were facing skyward. It wasn't far enough to give him a crick in the neck, but enough that the muscle there was tense and taut.

His arms were bound at his back, folded it at the elbow and crossed at the wrist, and both of his ankles were tied to the base of the structure. It forced Harry's groin to jut forward slightly, and already Remus could see Harry panting softly from the strain the position was putting on his body.

Remus and Blaise stopped in the centre of the stage, with Harry's bound form between them. The entire club was silent, and as they began, performing just as they had practised a dozen times before, Remus marvelled at how his hands shook as they each reached for the table set up behind Harry, and both of them picked up a lit pillar candle.

He did not miss the soft and sharp intakes of breath peppered throughout the audience, and he smiled inwardly at the reaction. In perfect sync, he and Blaise lifted the candles and tilted them to allow the hot wax to drip onto Harry's chest.

Harry hissed at the pain, but it was quickly followed by a feeble moan as he squirmed in his bindings. They were careful to avoid his nipples, and so droplets of the wax circled the hard buds, peppering his skin with white droplets as it hardened.

They set down the candles after a few moments, and Blaise rested a hand on Harry's cheek, coaxing his head to turn to offer him a kiss, then Remus did the same, though he drew it out a little longer than his partner.

“All right?” Remus asked Harry softly, and he jerked his head in a minor nod.

“Yeah.”

Blaise lifted his wand and gave it a casual flick, and something akin to a branch grew from the fixture, it passing between Harry's thighs and resting snugly against his groin. Attached to the end of it was a set of short narrow ropes, with clips affixed to the ends. Remus licked his lips almost unconsciously as he watched Blaise attach the clips to Harry's nipples. Because of the position, they were pulled taut, and every small movement that the submissive made tugged them further, and a small whimper of pain escaped past his lips. Despite the pained vocalization, Harry had not uttered his word nor did he appear uncomfortable—the scent of his heightening arousal was proof enough that he was _far_ from distressed by the situation.

 

Remus and Blaise stepped back and allowed the audience to marvel in the piece of art that was Harry. He shuddered and fidgeted, causing the clamps to tug more harshly on his nipples, changing them from a red to almost purple, and his body shone with sweat under the strain of it.

Harry's breath escaped him in short, shallow gasps, and he whimpered in the bindings, while Remus circled behind the sub, and Blaise drew a knife.

Remus had been expecting it, as with everything else they did on the stage it was planned, but the sight of it still chilled him a little.

Harry also knew that it was coming, and Blaise very lightly trailed the tip of the knife over the sub's left pectoral, causing his muscle to twitch lightly. He repeated the contact on the other side, while at the same time Remus distracted Harry from the sensation by resting a hand at his throat and pulling him in for a kiss.

Once Blaise had sufficiently gotten Harry used to the sensation, with barely an ounce of pressure, he trailed the tip over his flesh again.

Blood beaded the thin cuts—barely more than a cat scratch, and Harry shivered under the contact, and let out a soft moan. Blaise repeated the action in a number of spots on Harry's chest and abdomen, trailing the knife over his skin to leave two and three-inch cuts behind, but never applying enough pressure for it to even risk scarring. All the while, Remus touched Harry gently, drawing his attention away from the pain. He hissed every so often when some sweat had made its way into one of the shallow cuts, but overall did not seem overly distressed at the fact that he was being cut into by someone he trusted.

When the last cut fell and Blaise withdrew the knife, Remus tapped Harry's bindings with his wand. As they disappeared, Harry fell forward, and Blaise caught him deftly; he wrapped an arm around Harry's waist to help him stand, and offered the sub a kiss as Remus joined them and positioned himself on Harry's other side, crossing his arm across Blaise's as Harry turned his head to accept a kiss from his other dominant. He was shaking a little, exhausted from the performance, and amidst a shower of polite applause and with the help of his dominants, Harry was led off the stage and into one of the backstage dressing rooms to recuperate.

Remus helped Blaise ease Harry down onto the available settee, while Remus grabbed a jar of coconut ointment from the vanity, along with a small cloth. He joined the pair, and interspersed with sweet kisses and mindless small talk, they tended to the red marks on Harry's wrists and ankles; they dampened the cloth and wiped away the scant droplets of blood before healing the minor cuts with gentle taps of their wands; they peeled off the droplets of wax with their fingers, and massaged Harry's nipples with the lotion.

The sub's head was resting against the back of the settee while he melted under the tender affections of his two dominants—his two _lovers._ As Remus leant in for another kiss, he couldn't help but smile indulgently as he thought ahead to what they might try next in the days, weeks, months, and possibly years to come.

 

Remus shivered with anticipation

 

He could hardly wait.

 

-Fin

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This, as I said, was my first foray into BDSM in a fic. I was determined to keep it as realistic as possible, given that the scene is so badly represented by things like _Fifty Shades of Grey_ and Purity Wank people who misunderstand it as abuse in some way. I really hope that I did it justice, and I hope you guys enjoyed this little story :)
> 
> Until next time,
> 
> xox  
> James


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